


Transgressions

by bexacaust



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, driftceptor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-05-13 01:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 21,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5689327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexacaust/pseuds/bexacaust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There were sweet dreams in the night<br/>Of Time long past:<br/>And, was it sadness or delight,<br/>Each day a shadow onward cast<br/>Which made us wish it yet might last—<br/>That Time long past."<br/>- Time Long Past || Percy Bysshe Shelley</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Regret

_And even though it all went **wrong**_  
_I’ll **stand** before the Lord of Song_  
_With **nothing** on my tongue but_  
_**Hallelujah**_

Rodimus dropped into a seat beside his newly minted third-in-command, nudging the white mech with his elbow as Swerve set a drink in front of the Captain.

“There you are!”, laughed the Captain, “Where’ve you been hiding, huh?”

“Haven’t been hiding, just wandering around, learning the ship.”, said Drift absently, “Did you need something?”

Rodimus snorted as white finials perked up like an intrigued fox, “Learning the ship huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Specifically the lab, right?”, teased Rodimus, “Since you just about patrolled those halls half the day, dude. What’s eating you?”

“…Ever regret something?”

“Psht, loads of times. Drift, it’s me, eighty percent of my actions are followed by a sense of regret or a wish to have recording equipment; depending on the situation. And don’t get me started on the _NAMES_ of some of those regrets, okay? We’ll be here all **night**.”

“Mm.”

Drift sipped at his drink, tracing the rim with a servotip silently before they heard Brainstorm’s overloud voice from the door.

An argument. As usual. 

Perceptor walked calmly beside him, firing back as good as he was given until he and Brainstorm took their seats across from each other to hiss and snap like live wires on a wet floor.

Rodimus winced, “Jeeeeze; talk about internal conflicts. How long before they outright try to kill each other you think?”

“They won’t.”, said Drift quietly, “Percy only argues with people he likes.”

“Percy?”, said Rodimus, a grin beginning to form again on his face.

“Ah, erm, Perceptor.”

“Percy. You called him Percy. Mags already warned me that calling him Percy would guarantee a bullet in your processor.”

Drift was silent, filling the absence of sound with a long pull from his drink.

“You ‘argue’ with Percy ever, Drift?”

“…Once. A long time ago.”, replied Drift softly, “Back in the Wreckers.”

Rodimus snorted, “Regrets and Perceptor; damn, was he **that** bad?”

“No! No, no…”, said Drift in surprise, finials pointing straight up before relaxing slowly. He glanced at the scientist who was grinning vindictively at a narrow-optic’d Brainstorm.

“No.. He was wonderful.”

Rodimus moved closer, “…You okay?”

“I… I didn’t know he’d end up here. I figured he’d either be stationed somewhere in the galaxy or… well, dead.”

“That’s morbid as hell.”

“Wreckers don’t live long.”, said Drift, “He’s an outlier.”

“I heard he had a major rebuild once.”

Drift nodded, “Yes. It’s how we met. He was still fairly new to the Wreckers. Quiet, but excitable. Most of his time was in the medbay, actually. He’s got enough basic training to at least patch up most things. He hadn’t been in the field much at that point. We met by accident.”

“Turmoil?”

“Mhm.”, and Drift nodded, “He was sweet, eager. Flattering. His voice was softer then. And then, as things do… everything went to hell. They’dve left him behind.”

“But you being, well… YOU; just couldn’t stand for that?”

“You know me so well.”, was the dry retort as Drift took another drink, draining the glass and nodding to Swerve, “He was in suspended stasis for a while while the sparkchamber was repaired.”

“He took a hit to the chamber?!”

“It was nearly obliterated.”, whispered Drift, “Imagine my surprise when not only did he survive, but mere _seconds_ after being cleared for walkabout he locked himself in the lab and began his own rebuild.”

“Knew he was a wizard.”

Drift snorted, “More like a stubborn aft. He really was just.. so damn stubborn.”

Rodimus watched those finials slant back in contentment, the smile on Drift’s face.

“We started talking more, trading little bits of knowledge. I gave him a few tips on handling a rifle… he completely showed me up in a few cycles.”

Drift sighed, “That was maybe the first time I saw him.. smile.”

Rodimus arched optic ridges.

“He has an… interesting way of smiling. He fights it, usually. Its more a twitch than anything… but… When he smiled that day I think I almost shut down. It was the kind of smile that lights up a room.”

“Were… Were you and Perceptor…?”

“Eventually, yes.”, said Drift, “He used to stammer when he was nervous. He’d stammer and blink, like the owls on Earth.”

“Oh man, you had it bad.”

“I did, Primus I did. We were nearly inseparable; Kup found it hilarious. Springer… Never really approved. He slung a few thinly veiled threats at me over it, belieeeeve me. Even with a near perfect kill ratio and a temper like a supernova he always saw Percy as kind of… well…”

“A youngling.”

“Yeah. Percy always thought Springer hated him for failing. For being wounded so badly.”

Rodimus sipped quietly, letting his friend speak.

“And by my spark, Percy was a lover.”, sighed Drift, letting his optics slowly move to focus on the scientist, who now was laughing beside Brainstorm. The table the pair sat at had several empty glasses, “He’d leave his door unlocked, he knew I’d sneak in. And he’d give me that.. damn grin.”

Drift narrowed his eyes, that grin was being aimed at Brainstorm and it made his spark clench painfully.

“Are you getting… _jealous_?”

“No. No its all in the past. I don’t have a hold on his attention.I left the Wreckers, remember?”, said Drift, trying and failing to hide the bitterness in his hissed mumble of the words, “He’s free to pursue who he wants.”

“And you want it to be **you** , don’t you.”

“… It never will be again. I ruined that. I’ve come to terms with it.”

“Did you tell him goodbye?”

“…In my own way.”

“Left in the middle of the night.”

Drift was silent.

“Kissed him while he recharged and bounced like a busted bolt on the scrapshop floor.”

Drift nodded sharply.

“You miss him.”

Drift let his optics offline and close for a moment.

“So Drift. To uh, to bring this little chat full circle. Ever regret something?”

“I regret a lot of things…”

Rodimus waited, putting a hand on Drift’s forearm and squeezing gently.

“But I could never regret my time with Percy… Only that I didn’t have more of it.”

Rodimus nodded, sitting quietly beside his TIC as the swordsmech traced the lip of his glass with a finger again, dim optics and lost in the world of memory. A world filled with the laughter of a white jet and a softspoken scientist smiling at him from where he lounged on his berth, reading science fiction and humming along to a song only he heard in the dim light.


	2. Confession

_My lover’s got **humour**_   
_He’s the **giggle** at a funeral_   
_Knows everybody’s **disapproval**_   
_I should’ve worshiped him **sooner**_

 

“Spill it, ‘Ceptor.”

“My designation is PERCEPTOR. You’d be wise to properly use it.”, sighed Perceptor.

“And just last evening we were getting along oh-so-well.”, sighed Brainstorm dramatically, the back of a hand against his forehelm, “Oh, whatever has changed!”

Perceptor almost had to physically restrain himself from going for his pistol at the next words of his fellow scientist.

“Riiiight, the thick-hipped tart.”

“Drift. His name is DRIFT.”

“So protective! My, my; interesting. You refuse to speak to him, ignore him mooning over you from a corner, and now here you sit; maybe you should change your designation to **Percival** , if you’re going to be such a knightly sort.”

Perceptor glared, optic scope flickering as it initiated its targeting sequence.

“Oh, you’re welcome to shoot me if you like. I know the truth hurts.”, said Brainstorm airily, “Now, spill it. C’mon. What’s the story, you mourning glory?”

Perceptor rolled his optic, deactivating the targeting of the other with a thought, “Nothing. Ancient history is all.”

“Not too ancient if its got you up in arms. So c’mon. What is it? You meet him as Deadlock and get burned? Meet him in the gutter and get robbed?”

Perceptor remained quiet.

“…Wait, you didn’t deal, did you?”

“Sweet Primus NO.”, snapped Perceptor, “We met in the Wreckers.”

“Go on.”

“Brainstorm, is now honestly the time to explore the sordid remains of my love life? We have BUSINESS to attend t-”

“AH **HA**!”

Too late, Perceptor realized what he said, and vented a heavy sigh.

“A case of loved and left?”

“…No. Not really.”

Brainstorm felt the air change, and sat up.

“Perceptor?”

The Autobot scientist stared at the counter top, at his servos toying with each other absently.

“…We met on Turmoil’s ship. When I was still a rookie.”, he began softly, “He saved me.”

Brainstorm nodded, taking a seat beside Perceptor. Not too close, but not far away either.

“I had been injured. Sparkchamber nearly obliterated. Less than a ten percent chance of surviving… To top it off, they took my optic out too.”

Perceptor’s servos moved to trace the blue cover before flipping it up. A click as it locked, revealing the cluster of lenses behind it. High powered and telescopic view to maximize shot distances.

“He brought me back when the others would have left me behind. Stayed beside me while I recovered. He never believed I could hear him when he’d talk to me but I did. I remember everything.”

Perceptor’s optic went dim.

“I remember praise. I remember well wishes and I remember him saying he was hoping I’d wake up soon.”

Brainstorm nodded.

“And I did. Who was I to disappoint the mech who stepped in when Primus stepped away?”

Perceptor shook his head.

“As soon as I was cleared for walkabout, I knew what I had to do. I began a rebuild; took over the lab. Tried to lock it down, but leave it to Drift to crack through the locks.”

Brainstorm snickered, “Always was good at that.”

Perceptor nodded, “We talked. A lot. He was never bothered by my rambling… He told me it was… cute.”

“Cute?”

“I don’t see it either.”

They both snorted before quieting again to let Perceptor continue in his now-soft voice, “He was so happy when I was finished. Excited. Proud. That, I suppose is when it all started.”

“It?”

“Little things. He’d meditate near me; I’d read aloud when I couldn’t keep my thoughts straight and he’d listen. We worked together, even Kup was impressed.”

Perceptor looked up, staring off into nothingness almost dreamily.

“It was one of those long nights that it happened. I was on watch; my usual perch… And there he was. He had grown bored of Blurr being, well, Blurr and decided to come find me for company. He had noticed I hadn’t stopped in to top off for the evening and…”

“Even then he was checking up you.”

“Yes, even then.”, laughed Perceptor, “…He kissed me, that night.”

“And it all snowballed from there, hm?”

“Yes. It did. I began leaving my door unlocked, knowing he’d eventually slip in. Some nights we’d enjoy our time together. Some nights we’d talk. Some nights, erm…”

Brainstorm grinned behind his mask, “Some nights you figured out what it really means, being an autobot in the streets and a Con in the berth.”

“That is lewd and distasteful.”

“But true.”

“Very much so.”, sighed Perceptor, “Springer… didn’t approve. All but threatened to rip off Drift’s plating like a badly done bodykit. Kup, however, found it hilarious.”

Brainstorm nodded.

Perceptor’s expression grew tight, pained. He continued, “We… We were lasting. I was happy. Happier than I’d been in ages but… I suppose he wasn’t. After a while, he had grown restless, I guess. I don’t know.”

Brainstorm put a gentle hand on Perceptor’s shoulder and squeezed.

“It was a night of rattled windows and dented plating. We recharged together; the day’s assignment had been rough. No one had escaped unscathed and… I don’t know.”

“It’s alright, Perceptor. Get it out.”

“I remember a kiss. I was so tired, we’d worn each other out. I awoke late, and he was gone, I…”

Brainstorm moved closer now, an arm around Perceptor’s shoulders before he spoke.

“And he was gone, wasn’t he. Just like that. No warning, no nothing.”

“…Yes.”

Perceptor shook his head, “It’s… all ancient history. Nothing I dwell on anymore.”

“For a brilliant scientist, you’re a _terrible_ liar.”

“I convinced everyone that Drift vanishing like a daydream didn’t hurt, didn’t I?”

“Very true.”

Brainstorm sighed with a whirr of vents, “Perceptor, you need to speak to him.”

“Why, only to find out I’m another in a long list of warm memories and vague name recalls?”

Perceptor hissed when he was forcibly turned to face Brainstorm.

“Listen. Drift is a CON, alright? Ex means nothing. Not to me, I know what its like. And he let you SEE HIM in a way that would’ve gotten him killed or WORSE in the old ranks. WE don’t just forget that. Maybe you Autobots do, but we remember every face and every name we’ve ever said I love you to.”

Brainstorm swallowed hard, “And even, sometimes, the ones we should have. You’ve been given a second chance. From a scientific standpoint, this is a one in a BILLION; maybe more!”

Perceptor blinked.

Brainstorm stared hard at him, “Don’t let it slip away. Even if it comes out he’s gone full Autobot, even if it DOES turn out you were a damn berthwarmer, you need closure. You owe yourself that at least.”

Perceptor nodded slowly.

“My theory? He does remember. ACUTELY. And if the way he was looking at you last night while you were gloating-”

“I do not _GLOAT_.”

“Shut up, you were gloating. Anyway, if the way he was looking at you is any indication? My very, super scientific analysis of the situation is that he misses the HELL out of you. And is a sappy glitch who lost his bolts somewhere along the way.”

“He is not a sappy glitch.”

“He won’t even SPEAK to you. That’s the first sign of _Terminal_  ‘being-a-little-sappy-glitch.”

Perceptor rolled his optic again.

Brainstorm chuckled, “But all joking aside. ‘Ceptor; honestly. Talk to him. If for nothing else, do it for yourself.”

Perceptor looked down, freezing at Brainstorm’s next words.

“Don’t let your last chance to love him again get taken out by the remnants of a war no one really wanted.”

Perceptor slowly looked up, catching the glimpse of sorrow in Brainstorm’s optics before the other scientist moved away, stretching and standing.

“Make sure to lock up when you leave, alright? This Rung impersonation’s worn me down to wires. I’ll see you in the morning- OH! And don’t think this whole thing means I’m going to stop proving that I am the SUPERIOR scientific mind here. It’s only a matter of time.”

Perceptor snorted a laugh as Brainstorm gave a casual wave and walked away, humming jauntily to himself.


	3. The Parting Glass

_Of all the **comrades** that e'er I had_   
_They’re **sorry** for my going away_   
_And all the **sweethearts** that e'er I had_   
_They’d wish me one more day to **stay**_

It was only a matter of time before they could no longer avoid each other.

With how they threw themselves into their work so desperately, to block out their thoughts; their wishes, words left unsaid so long ago.

The memory of a sprawled rookie; a last kiss ~~goodbye~~ goodnight.

And now, here they sat; when Swerve’s was quiet, underpopulated given the day’s battle. Drift’s armor felt like it was going to drop from his frame as he sat down with a groan.

“Long day, then?”

He froze, turning to see he had dropped next to none other than Perceptor. He laughed awkwardly, mumbling his reply as Swerve set a glass in front of him with a muted clink.

The bartending mech grinned as he moved away, snatching a rag and a few of the drying glasses to polish away any spots.

The pair sat in silence, before Drift broke it.

“How’s working with Brainstorm?”

“Well, he certainly lives up to **half** of his name. Not sure about the Brain part, however.”

Drift snorted, and Perceptor chuckled. The pair’s laughter fed on each other, until the tension seemed to snap.

“So, how goes life with the dear Captain?”, snickered Perceptor with a gleam in his optic.

Drift shrugged, smirking, “Easiest babysitting job I’ve had in a while. At least this one doesn’t have tantrums with **guns**.”

“Definitely an improvement.”

Drift rolled his eyes, a tired hand circling his glass. He watched carefully as Percy did the same with his own drink, bringing it to his lipplates. He still had a thin smile, shadowy and imperceptible. His optic scope didn’t have its typical energon-bright glow; powered down for the night.

Drift let his mind wander, back to a time when he’d be the one reaching to tap the small control to shut the thing down and remind Perceptor to recharge before he keeled over. He watched Perceptor’s even movements, remembering and reminiscing how he’d watch the scientist for hours as he did menial work… Repairing weapons, working titrations and toying with chemicals Drift STILL couldn’t quite pronounce.

He pulled his gaze back to his drink, swallowing the feeling of his spark in his throat.

Perceptor swore the tap of his own glass back on the bartop echoed. He observed through his peripheral vision; the way Drift’s optics were dimmed, half paying attention as he tilted a glass with one finger, spinning it on an edge aimlessly. Drift began to hum to himself, a song Perceptor couldn’t place except for early mornings in a habsuite when those same servos traced seams on his armor. He felt his mind wander back to days spent with the samurai, being taught the tricks only a hard life could teach you; leaning over the mech when he would meditate to press kisses along scarred shoulders; neck cables with almost invisible repair patches.

Perceptor pulled his attention back to focus on the scuffs on the bartop.

Gently n ~~ervous~~  EM fields extended just enough to touch, to brush together before retreating once again and the pair smiled.

They sat in a peaceful kind of quiet; both swallowing words that grew barbs when they weren’t spoken. Servos twitching with the urge to grab, to hold, to pull close and to never let go.

Perceptor took a sip every time he felt the temptation to say _I Miss You_.

Drift’s grip tightened to stave off the urge to say _I’m Sorry_.

Both of them felt their sparks throb with the near-painful desire to say those three little words they once whispered to each other in the dark, in the throes of desire.

_I Love You._

Perceptor rose from his seat first.

“Drift?”

“Yeah Percy- I mean, Perceptor.”

Perceptor chuckled, laying his hand on Drift’s shoulder.

“Don’t be a stranger. Stop by the lab whenever you like.”

A heartbeat’s worth of silence.

“And its Percy. For you, its Percy.”

And his steps carried him away again, and Drift watched him go…

And for a moment, he knew what Perceptor felt all those eons ago to awaken and realize his wandering warrior had wandered on.

The phrase once more hung in the air, like lead or dark matter suspended in space.

_I Love You._

_I’ve Loved You For a Long Time._

“Goodnight and joy be with you.”, murmured the swordsmech, downing the remainder of a burning liqour to dull the pain of words unsaid.


	4. Exit Stage Right

_But it wouldn’t **mean** a thing;  
If I told you how I **feel** …_

He was gone.

Perceptor watched Rodimus tear off his Autobot brand, watched Drift turn on one heel briskly and walk away, head held high.

He watched, he watched, he grit his denta and clenched his fists and saw nothing but red and fire and rage.

He felt Magnus touch his shoulder and growled like a beast; like Cerebrus challenging the souls entering Hades and he whirled, glaring up at the Duly Appointed Enforcer with optics so full of hatred and pain that Magnus took a step back from the force of it. An EM Field flashed against the other mech as Perceptor advanced a step, and Magnus swore his armor was singed as the ex-Wrecker brushed by harshly.

His steps were like gunshots, cracking the silence around him like glass rods.

He locked himself in the lab for days. Days upon days.

He worked with a dogged determination; drowning his emotions in caustic acid and boiling temperatures and swallowing the howls his breaking spark tried so desperately to release like a thunderstorm.

His grip shattered glass, and he swept it away.

It dented metal, which he replaced with no words.

He vented superheated air, his temperature rising anytime he dwelled on the suffering he could unleash. Room to room in a crew of betrayers.

How would they feel, knowing the mech who kept their engines running felt nothing as he fired round after round between optics once upon a time?

Would they be so loyal to their Captain, knowing what he has had to do to survive in a war?

And Perceptor’s rage turned cold; liquid nitrogen suffused him, sustained him, froze his backstrut into a perfectly straight graph-line and his lips into a constant thin-lipped frown. He became aloof, silent, cold… vicious.

In the halls he was avoided. Mechs looked at his face and stepped aside and he paid them no mind, he gave no words.

He closed into himself, to tame the burning spark in his indestructible chest. Recharge was rare, his fuse ever shorter.

Once again, a Wrecker was betrayed by the ones he served.

And then came the confession.

The confession that drove him to the shooting range; that drove him to imagine orange and red; to imagine white finials and a Messiah complex. Round after round after round, the crack of gunfire and the grind of his denta against each other.

Magnus watched him, remembering the sight of Perceptor firing on the battlefield. That callous mock-smile, the ramrod straight stance, the way his optic glinted as Cons fell like toppled effigies.

From the range to the lab and back again; an unbroken circle once more. And history repeats itself, ad infinitum…

Until the pattern is broken, and a panicked comm comes through from Brainstorm.

“HE’S GOING TO KILL HIM, SOMEONE, PLEASE!”

And Magnus moved faster than he ever had before.

Rodimus has taken it upon himself to confront the cold scientist. Had forced his way into the lab and loudly proclaimed that Perceptor was “Acting like a damn idiot.”

Perceptor set a beaker down, rested his servos upon the counter, and quietly, in a voice rasped from disuse, answered, “I’m the idiot?”

He turned, face falling into a scowl like Aries himself, “I’M the idiot?! You, YOU who drove Drift away, who agreed to house a DEADLY BEAST in armor plating all for your EGO, DARE ACCUSE ME OF IDIOCY?!”

He reached behind himself, and pressed the lockdown switch. A soft whine as doors slammed shut, as the lights went low in warning ranges and reds like the colors of a venomous snake ready to strike.

Rodimus suddenly felt fear as Perceptor began to advance.

“He… He OFFERED to take the fall! I was desperate, I admit it, it was stupid of me to accept but he just about FORCED MY HAND!”

“I ought to paint the wall with your processor.”, snarled Perceptor, the long repressed anger bubbling to the surface like molten steel, “I should have flung you out of the airlock; welded you to the floor of the engine room and forced a jump.”

“Percy, this isn’t you, calm down okay?”

“I WAS calm. I forced myself nice and peaceful when I watched him walk away; when I watched you play your part oh so well. The time for acting is OVER, Rodimus. Did you forget _**who I am**_?”

Rodimus shook his head, swallowing hard as he readied himself.

Perceptor flew at him with a hiss, and Rodimus swung, sending the cover of the optic scope glittering to the side where it crashed to the floor and shattered like their respective images.

And they fought, tooth and nail.

Brainstorm pounded on the lab door, frantically sending out a wide-range comm to anyone who would listen.

“HE’S GOING TO KILL HIM, SOMEONE, PLEASE!”, he babbled, trying to dig his servos into the seam of the door and pull it open. He strained, feeling cables creaked as he heard a crash and a swear from inside. is grip failed him and he stumbled back before he steadied and charged the door.

Thunk! Thunk! Thud!

He panted, rearing back to charge again before a red hand landed on his shoulder.

“Enough, kid. Let us handle this.”, said Ratchet in his aged drawl. He input his code, and the door beeped, whirred, beeped once more…. and slid open.

Magnus followed close behind, bypassing the CMO.

Perceptor had servos wrapped around Rodimus’s neck, and was squeezing as the Prime slammed his knees up under Perceptor’s chestplate to no avail. The flame-painted mech gagged as Perceptor’s thumbs dug into his neck-cables and began to try and peel them apart.

Rodimus snarl of “Bastard!” was hazed in static and then the pressure was gone, Magnus pulling the ex-Wrecker away though he fought against the hold. Ratchet filled the young Prime’s vision, tilted Rodimus’s helm gently so his practiced optics could scan for damage.

“Nothing’s busted, you should be fine. No yelling or speeches for a while, a’right?”, murmured the CMO in relief.

Rodimus nodded, looking back to where Magnus had a metal-denting grip on Perceptor’s teal arm guards, even as the ex-Wrecker dug his pedes into the lab floor in an attempt to once again attack his Captain.

“I just wanted to talk to him, y’know? He’s been acting weird and-”

Ratchet shook his head, “Bad idea. Just trust me on this.”

“Y’THINK.”

“Could say the same to you. Confessions don;t heal all wounds, Rodimus. And sometimes ‘I’m Sorry’ just doesn’t cut it.”, said Ratchet gently, “Now, outta here. We need to get Perceptor calm and you being here won’t help that.”

Rodimus nodded, getting up on shaky legs and taking quick steps out the open door, away from the lights like a crime scene and the snarled accusations of the mech who ran his ship’s machinery.

Ratchet turned to to Perceptor, standing far too straight as he moved forward.

Perceptor glared, his optic scope whirring as it tried to focus; the small dents in his helm spoke volumes in regards to the tiny sounds.

“Perceptor, calm the hell down.”

“FRAG being calm!”

“I’ll sedate you if I have to.”

“I’ll rip your servos off and FEED THEM TO YOU, you touch me; let me GO!”

“Perceptor-”

“I’l not deal with this crew of COWARDS-”

CRACK.

Magnus looked at Ratchet, impressed. Perceptor jerked, and went limp in the Enforcer’s hands, out cold from a single right hook delivered by prescription from the CMO.

Ratchet flexed his hand, wincing slightly, “Shoulda turned down the sensitivity first; like hitting an iron bunker wall.”

“Sometimes, he can be as thick as one.”, said Magnus, shifting his grip on the scientist, “We’re lucky the lab has a disarm policy, and that he follows such rules to the letter… Mostly.”

Ratchet snorted, “Well, a temper can’t exactly be unequipped. Gather him up, he’s going to the medbay first of all.”

“Will that be safe?”

Ratchet nodded, “Should be. Get him patched up, put him in a lockdown ward. I’ll comm Rung as soon as this jackaft wakes up. He doesn’t leave til he has a nice long talk with him; and sets an appointment for as soon as possible.”

He looked at the unconscious scientist leaned carefully against Magnus.

“He’s internalized a lot. Drift leaving was just the shine on the engex glass.”

Magnus nodded, holding the still silent Perceptor against his side and walking him out. The light hummed, shifting back to their normal glow as Brainstorm deactivated the lab’s lockdown protocol.

Perceptor would wake six hours later at the sound of a medbay ward door clicking shut as Rung took a seat beside the berth, pulling off his glasses and polishing them with a rag pulled from one of many compartments.

The psychologist looked at him, optics sharp as a scalpel and twice as effective as the rag vanished.

“Perceptor. Let’s talk.”

The sniper couldn’t help the chuckle as candy was offered with a warm smile.


	5. Halo

_I’m the one_  
 _That’s **pure** inside_  
  
The ship was silent.

Drift sat at the controls, optics flickering from display to display, mentally on autopilot before the machine he controlled was.

Ratchet looked up from where he dozed in a sprawl as the swordsmech passed by, snatching up a rag and a blade and sat with crossed legs. He hummed to himself as he began his routine of polishing in the silence.

“Rough battle.”, said the medic quietly, suddenly, “Haven’t seen you fight like that in a long while.

Drift paused, a finial quirking in Ratchet’s direction.

“How long’ve you been holding all that in?”

“…A while.”

Ratchet watched him before sitting up straight, frowning hard, “Why?”

“No need to act like that in the day-to-day, y’know?”, said the samurai blandly.

“Why not get a sparring partner? Fin another way to burn it all off? Can’t be healthy to tone all that down; and don’t give me a line about meditation. If meditation worked as well as you say, you wouldn’t have been able to pull that off.”

Drift shrugged.

“We’ve already been in prison together, might as well come clean with me Drift. What’s stopping you?”

“Think for a minute how the crew would’ve reacted, seeing me like that.”, was the soft answer, “Just for a klik, imagine how they’d react. They’d be damn TERRIFIED of me; there’d be theories about me losing my mind going berserk and killing the crew, about how I’m just so untrustworthy and a typical Decepticon and-”

“Didn’t they already say all that?”, asked Ratchet easily, a dryly amused tone to his voice, “Didn’t they already watch you constantly and question your motives and all that slag?”

Drift was silent.

“Tin halos don’t make angels.”

Drift glanced at him over a shoulder, lipplates pressed into a thin and unamused line.

“What?”

“Do you think I enjoyed it?”, snapped Drift, turning away from the medic again, “Being under constant scrutiny? I had enough of that in the old ranks. I didn’t want it here.”

“So you act MORE suspicious to garner less suspicion. Perfect hippy logic.”

Drift’s finial’s tilted down, razor sharp and stiff. Angry.

“Honesty is always the best policy Drift. And you weren’t honest.”, said Ratchet quietly, “With anyone. Not me, not Rodimus, not Percep-”

“Don’t bring him into this.”

“Who, Rodimus?”

“Percy. Leave him out of this.”

“Y’know, he attacked Rodimus.”

Drift turned so sharply his backstrut crackled, “WHAT?!”

Ratchet nodded, “Had to lay him out with a right hook. Like hittin’ the hull. Pretty sturdy kid, that one.”

Drift glared, “What did Rodimus do.”

“When you left, Perceptor internalized. Didn’t speak, didn’t interact, nothing. Then when the confession came, well… He took it badly.”

“Confession?”

“Mhm. Rodimus came clean. Told everyone the truth.”

Drift jerked back in surprise.

“And then, thinkin’ he could just ORDER Perceptor to talk, he charged into the lab all glitz and glamour… and Percy locked down the room. Nearly killed him.”

“I warned him his temper would just get WORSE when he did that.”, sighed Drift in exasperation.

“Maybe you should take your own advice.”, said Ratchet offhandedly.

“I’m not about to blow up at half-cocked Primes anytime soon.”, said Drift moodily, abandoning his sword to hunch and sulk, “Exiled to deep space, remember?”

“You could always go home.”

“It’s not home. Never really was.”

“If it wasn’t home, would you miss it so much?”

Drift was silent, for a while. Ratchet didn’t continue, letting his words settle in Drift’s processor and watching him mull it over and bicker with himself. With an annoyed growl at himself, he got to his feet; no longer the light steps of the “flaky spiritualist” he all-but stomped back to the pilot’s seat and dropped into it.

“Might as well take your stubborn aft home. Too old to be wandering around space ANYWAY.”, the grin this line was delivered with made Ratchet’s optics narrow into slits.

Drift snickered to himself, activating systems and punching in coordinates, and he stopped as a small shiver ran through the little ship, “And… And I guess I could check on Percy. He probably could use the support. He never was good at talking.”

“He misses you. He’s missed you since you walked out on him.”

“And how the hell-”

“We sent him to Rung.”, said Ratchet simply, getting up to take his heavy steps over and stand behind Drift’s seat, “He needed it. He came to apologize to me for his little demonstration of zero self-control and we got to chatting. That’s how I found out.”

Drift sighed heavily.

“I understand why you did it that way; don’t worry. No lecture for that.”

Drift snorted, “Yet.”

“Y’do it again, I’ll bash a few more dents into your helm.”, said Ratchet,, flicking a finial as the ship’s course shifted. Then his servos scritched gently at the base of one of those too-sensitive finials, making Drift shiver and sigh happily, and a pede tap against the floor.

They both paused, and Ratchet started to snicker. Drift looked horrified.

“NOT A WORD, RATCHET.”

“That’s just too damn adorable.”

Drift yowled, then whined when Ratchet set to giving those finial scritches with gusto, and the samurai squirmed and swatted at the medic who taunted him. Ratchet finally had mercy on the white mech, hands moving to squeeze Drift’s shoulders comfortingly.

“The whole crew missed you. Trust us a little; if not all of us, then trust the ones who haven’t let you down.”

Drift sighed, “I’ll try.”


	6. Fun and Games

_Remember when you were a **madman**?_   
_**Thought you was Batman**?_   
_And hit the party with a **gas can!**_

 

 

Drift jerked awake at Ratchet’s profuse swearing.

He stumbled forth, dropping into the copilot seat and blearily demanding a status report.

“I can’t shake ‘em, how in the HELL did you sleep through all this jerkin’ around kid?!”

“Eons of skill on a Con ship; next qestio- oh boy.”

Scanning the displays, Drift cackled and made Ratchet glare at him as he did so. The samurai looked at the medic, and that slow troublemaker’s smile spread from finial to finial.

“Hey Ratch? When was the last time you had a little fun?”

“What’re you planning?”

“Leading some low-rank ex-Con scouts on a merry space-race, then scaring the slag out of them.”

“... Go on.”

The ship jerked as they were fired upon. Drift braced himself with his forearms, looking back up at the console in offense, “WOW. RUDE.”

“Well y’know, etiquette’s lost on some mechs.”

“Clearly.”

Ratchet looked to his partner-in-crime as they veered sharply to the left, “So, what’s the gameplan?”

Drift’s grin went wicked, “Listen closely...”

Back on the small Con cruiser, two mechs looked up as communications beeped at them. The flick of the switch, and Ratchet’s voice came through, gruff though softly spoken.

“State rank and class; then reasons for attacking a medic en route.”

“Stop runnin’ Autobot, we’ve got you outnumbered and outmaneuvered; let us board or we’ll shoot you down!”

Back on Drift’s ship, both looked at each other, unimpressed. Ratchet turned back to his comm conversation, and with a smile and an eerily cheerful tone stated, “Then catch me if you can, y’polyresin knockoffs!”

And the comm was closed. The ship jarred again, the pair of them cackling as the weak fire merely scuffed the hull.

“Gun it, Ratch, just gun it!”

Ratchet snorted, and their speed climbed. He wove between debris, leading the unfortunate tailers deeper and deeper into a field of stone and scrap. Drift cackled as Ratchet steered with ease, even managing to giggle as they both laughed at the unfortunate dings and minor collisions their pursuers suffered with every hard-to-follow turn and feint.

Comms online, Ratchet happily chattered, “Havin’ a bit ‘f trouble there kids?”

“GET FRAGGED, MEDIC.”

Ratchet wheezed in laughter, hearing hull damage alarms in the background of the communications.

“If anyone seems to be gettin’ fragged here, it’s you. And fate didn’t even kiss ya first, what a SHAME!”

Drift slid lower in his seat, servos clamped over his mouth to hold in his howls of glee.

Ratchet splayed his own servos over his spark chamber in mock offense, “They hung up. Didn’t even say goodbye or nothin’; can you believe the nerve ‘f some mechs?”

“Someone clearly didn’t pay attention when they were taught manners!”, said Drift, clicking his tongue like a disappointed mother. A klik of silence, and both of them burst into laughter.

They led their pursuers a merry dance amongst stone and steel and detrius before Ratchet said, “Now hold on.”

A jerk of the controls and a whine from the engine; Drift whooping in joy as the ship turned in a perfect arc and roll and dove them straight down out of the stagnant field of obstacles into clear space. The ex-Con guffawed as the scouts who followed them were buffeted during their attempt at copying the Autobot ship’s movements.

Drift clapped a hand on Ratchet’s shoulder, “You fly smoother than most pilots I know, what’s your secret?”

“A mad scientist with a habit of blowing up everything in a kilometer radius.”

“Wheeljack?”

“Yep, Jack can handle just about anything with an engine and flight capabilities. Or a fuse and a blast radius.”

“Except you, right?”

“Except me. Why do you think I was so good at keeping his aft in line?”

They both cackled, and the ship comm tittered a sound for an incoming communication.

Drift grinned, “Ever seen a Con’s spark drop out the bottom of their ship?”

“Not without help.”

“You’re about to.”

Drift felt over his neck cabling, and there was a soft pop, and the sound of something cycling down. He winked at Ratchet, and cleared his intake. Twiddling a few controls on the comm display, he invented deeply, and exvented slowly. He opened his mouth, and popped the caps from his fangs before schooling his face into an old, familiar snarl.

And opened communications.

“AND JUST WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU FRAGGING LACKEYS THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”, he roared. His voice gutteral and frigid, edged like a sawblade and twice as effective.

It took everything in Ratchet’s power to not burst out laughing.

The dimmed console view gave a grey tinge to white paint, the edited viewscreen peripheral made his face all-too visible and vicious. And with the damages sustained with the other ship, the image that was blasting into their optics seemed to be none other than Deadlock himself, risen from the dead.

The sound of shrieks echoed on the comm wavelength, and Ratchet watched the hullview to see the scout ship veer sharply right, then left. In their panic at seeing a thought-dead mechanical nightmare made “real”, they steered left at an upward angle...

Right back into the scrapfield.

Ratchet gunned it again as Drift shut down the communications again, both of them with shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

“...Maybe I shoulda said Hello first, y’think?”, asked Drift thoughtfully, his old voice wrapping around the innocent nature of the words in a way so out of alignment with the idea of Deadlock that Ratchet broke first.

A full-on belly laugh erupted from the medic, his helm tilted back and coolant beaded at the corners of his optics as he wheezed an invent and unleashed another torrent of laughter. Drift joined him, draped over the side of the copilot’s seat

Drift sighed as his laughter subsided, a few outbursts of snickering from them both before they settled. Ratchet wiped at his optics and shook his head.

“Haven’t had a laugh like that in centuries kid.”

“I’m just surprised you know how to have fun.”

“I was havin’ fun before half the damn Lost Light was even online. Me an’ Jack practically invented it.”

“Oh really.”

“Ain’t a damn thing can be done that we, and maybe a few others, didn’t do first. But keep that under your helm; I got a reputation to keep up after all.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

Drift moved to switch the mod on his vocalizer back on when he saw Ratchet frown. He twitched a finial questioningly.

“Leave it off. You sound a lot better like this than that wishy-washy hippy trill you usually call a voice.”

“It’s not a TRILL!”

“Oh please, you practically sing like those damsel’s in Swerve’s trashy romance movies.”

Drift blew a raspberry at Ratchet, resorting to immaturity as the medic merely grinned.

Neither mentioned the content positioning of white finials.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet talks a big "serious business" game, but underneath the medic ideals and rules and regulations he can still be game for a little old fashioned fun.


	7. Requiem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tell me about when he left.”
> 
> “Who?”
> 
> “Drift.”

_This is what I **thought** ,_   
_I thought you need **me** ,_   
_This is what I thought so think me **naïve** ,_   
_I promised you a **heart** you’d promise to **keep** ,_   
_**Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep.**_

“Tell me about when he left.”

“Who?”

“Drift.”

“… It wasn’t long before Garrus Nine that it happened…”

Perceptor shuttered his optics.

 

> **[[** _Drift laughing as he tugged Perceptor into the small hab, letting the door hiss shut. Drift cooing as Perceptor nipped at neck cables and scolded him in hushed tones._
> 
> **_I Love You I Almost Lost You Don’t Leave Me Not Like That_ ]]**

“The missions were getting rougher; word was getting out that we had Drift, previously Deadlock, in our ranks.”

 

> **[[** _Drift gasping, backstruts arching, legs hooked over Perceptor’s shoulders as heavy hips bucked and roll and chased sensation. Whispered pleas and breathy moans as a berth clicked and creaked from movement._
> 
> _Drift clawing streaks through red finish._ **]]**

“He expressed worry before; worry that we’d be hurt irreparably. I knew the Turmoil incident still haunted him; seeing me in stasis had affected him. I think… I think it had done something to me too.”

 

> **[[** _Drift watching with silent worry as Perceptor disassembled and reassembled his rifle over and over; drills, shaving seconds off every time. Dragging each night out in the understood knowledge that it could be the last. The constant whisper of “thirty kliks” in the back of their minds._ **]]**

“Done something? Like what, Perceptor.”

“Like you couldn’t figure without me speaking.”

“This isn’t about me. No one knows you better than you do, Perceptor. I am only here to listen.

 

> **[[** _Drift tapping the scope, the whirr of it powering down. Whispers of “Come to berth” “I miss you” “I want you” “Come have me, just one more time before we recharge”_
> 
> _“_ **I love you** _, you know that right?”_ **]]**

Perceptor invented slowly, the air leaving in a hiss.

“It… It made me cruel.”

 

> **[[** _Their first fight. The memory of a stained hand trembling as it raised from the dust. The cold mirth as a handgun fired; as a helm burst and fell to the ground utterly still._
> 
> _“Don’t let this CONSUME YOU Percy!”  
>  _
> 
> _“I’m not being bloody CONSUMED Drift I **’M FIGHTING A WAR!** ”  
>  _
> 
> **_“I SAID THAT ONCE TOO!”_ ]]**

“He saw it, he saw it before even Kup did. He acted before anyone else did, too.”

 

> **[[** _A fight, common in Wrecker barracks. Blurr had stupid additions to his frame from his racing days. Black servos around one, bending metal, the snarl of pain._
> 
> _“Percy, **STOP**.”  
>  _
> 
> _Cold reality, his berth, being held and Drift whispering to him to come back._ **]]**

“I carried anger. Anger at being weak; being useless. Being looked down upon. Better a soldier with a garden that a gardener in a war. So I made myself into a soldier…”

“And he had loved the gardener; the scientist.”

“… Yes.”

 

> **[[** _Meditating with Drift the first time. Falling asleep, leaned against white armor and awakening to a soft chuckle and a kiss to the side of his helm. Soft apologies and softer lovemaking. Perceptor crying out this time, only for his sounds to be muffled in kisses that heated faster than his plating._ **]]**

Perceptor leaned against the wall of the office, willing his servos to cease their twitches, his hands to stop shaking as Rung watched with optics keen as a winter chill.

“Talk to me Perceptor; no need to swallow it down anymore.”

“I… chased him away? I don’t know, Rung I just… don’t know.”

“Is that what hurts, Perceptor?”

“No.”

 

> **[[** _Battle weary, limping. Leaning against each other in the washracks and stealing kisses and touches. Hearing snickers and a whoop when Perceptor yelped from Drift lightly pinching the tubing on his sides. Wet, playful swats and teasing all the way back to the hab._
> 
> _Being held close while the echoes of gunfire faded. While the screams of pain slowly toned themselves down. Running servos over the gouges in white plating, whispering apologies for not preventing them. The unit had nearly been overcome._
> 
> _As soon as Drift had been recognized with a snarl of “ **TRAITOR!** ”_ **]]**

“What hurts…”

Rung’s hands rested on his desk, his eyes gentle.

“What hurts is how he left.”

 

> **[[** _Designations gasped into the darkness, whimpered begging for more for harder for faster “Al-m-most there Percy!”_
> 
> _Drift’s optics sparking white, Perceptor’s frame shuddering from a hard release. The scent of electricity and lust and all delicious vice._
> 
> _Tangling together as the fuzzy cloudiness of recharge heavily shuttered Perceptor’s optic and Drift laughed fondly and tapped the reticule scope to power it down._
> 
> _“I love you.”  
>  _
> 
> _“ **I love you too. I’ll see you in the morning.** ”_ **]]**

“I told him I’d… I’d see him in the morning.”, laughed Perceptor bitterly, painfully, “That I’d see him in the morning like we hadn’t just been nearly mauled.”

“Did you?”

Perceptor sank down, seated on the floor with legs crossed and his helm shaking side-to-side in the negative.

“I never saw him again, until the Lost Light.”

 

> **[[** _Fuzzy half awake sight. White finials, calm blue optics. Why do they look so sad? A kiss, it was warm and full of something; love maybe. Longing. Loss. All good words. Perceptor licked his lipplates and hummed, reaching out to catch Drift’s servos in his own and squeeze gently._
> 
> _Half of a smile. Stroking over the palm of a hand riddled with scientific microtools._
> 
> _“I love you Perce. **More than words can say.** ”_
> 
> _“Love you too.”_ **]]**

“He kissed me goodbye. He kissed me goodbye and jumped ship.”, whispered Perceptor, “Not a word. Not a note, not a comm frequency to call him on NOTHING.”

He wanted to sound angry, but all he sounded was tired.

 

> **[[** _The morning. The berth is cold, and so is Perceptor. Drift’s possessions are gone; the smell of incense already faded and Kup steps in throught the door._
> 
> _“Percy-”  
>  _
> 
> _“It’s. **Perceptor.** ”, is the growled reply as a frigid gaze is turned to the oldest of the Wreckers, “No one calls me Percy; anyone else makes the mistake of doing so, and they’ll have a hole through the helm.”  
>  _
> 
> _“…Understood, young’n.”_ **]]**

Perceptor let his helm thud against the wall his back was against, “Not long after, we got the call for Garrus Nine. Prowl made specific requests from our unit. Specifically me. He hadn’t expected me to survive so long, you see. Didn’t want knowledge of his little projects to be known.”

A bitter, vindictive laugh, “I should have been in Pyro’s place. Anyone could have figured out that bloody disaster they called Aequitas; and I’d have peace.”

Rung watched Perceptor try to glare a hole in an office wall.

“But… We pulled Fortress Maximus out of there. We scrubbed some of the filth from the title of Wrecker. I suppose in some way, it all evens out.”

Perceptor looked to Rung, “None of this would have happened if I had just followed the rule.”

“Rule?”

Perceptor’s mouth twitched into a wry smile,  **“Never let it get personal.”**

Rung felt his spark crack at the firm way the line was delivered; the tone not matching the dulled blue of the mech’s optic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hurt me to write.


	8. Everlasting

_But **delay** the mournful words_   
_Of complicated **overcast**_   
_Please take the **message**_   
_That you taught me how to **live** at last_

Ratchet checked the autopilot and the comms one last time before retreating further into the small ship. He found Drift, head bowed and hands together in relaxed prayer before the Greatsword he carried.

Ratchet watched him a moment before the no-longer modified voice rumbled from the white mech.

“You can ask the question in your head. I’ll answer.”

“Who was it.”

Drift onlined his optics.

“Who gave you this sword, why do your pray to it? What absolution can you get from a piece of metal Drift?”

“His name… His name was Wing.”

“You’ve mentioned him before.”

Drift nodded, sighing softly, “Yeah. He… he took me in, when I arrived at New Crystal City. Sheltered me. Taught me. Changed me somehow. Maybe for the better, maybe not.”

“Is that doubt?”

“Yes.”

Ratchet was taken aback at the simple answer to a prying question. Drift turned to look at him, gesturing at his speedster frame, “They rebuilt me the first time; they repaired many things; left alone what they could. They believed that the past could be forgiven, but should not be forgotten. A reminder of where you’ve come from to push to what you want to become.”

Drift then looked at his hands, “I still have my claws. My sharpened denta, my voice. Especially my voice. They installed a mod for it, to lessen the growl.”

Ratchet nodded, letting the samurai speak.

“But… I mean, I’m grateful, of course, for the physical healing. But after a long, long time I’ve questioned how they tried to heal my processor. What I was, what I’ve done… what I was WILLING to do, that’s not just something I can ‘push through’. you know? It’s not a mental block. It’s…”

“It’s trauma.”, said Ratchet quietly, saving the slivers of pride that prevented Drift from admitting it, “It’s a severe, traumatic experience; several of them, compounded one after the other and stacked like glass bricks on a ball-bearing.”

“…Yes.”, said Drift, “Their methods worked for most, yes, but… Not really for me. These aren’t bad dreams I can forget in the morning. It’s freezing solid when I hear gunfire. It’s anger I have a servotip grip on at the best of times. It’s looking into the optics of a whiny Rodimus or a scolding Magnus and that brief thought I have, how much could I get for their helm and brand? What perks could I get for the delivery?”

Ratchet nodded.

“I’ve been told a thousand times, over and over again, that it can’t be held against me, I was just surviving. And in the beginning, it was. Surviving, that is.”

“But you grew to enjoy parts of it. Parts you were afraid of letting go.”

“I fell in love with control.”, sighed Drift, “Something I’d been denied for a long, long time before all of this happened. I went from barely having a say in the use of my own FRAME to commanding platoons and dishing out orders…”

“And they were followed to the letter.”, finished Ratchet, “And if they weren’t, you could decide the reprimand.”

Drift nodded, a forlorn droop to his finials, “And… it felt like they were trying more to make me just IGNORE all of that, instead of deal with it. Dressing it up in pretty words and meditation positions.”

Drift shook his head, “I loved Wing. Love Wing. I always will. Aside from you, before Percy, he was one of the only mechs who ever showed me compassion. Empathy. He gave me sympathy without mockery and no expecting anything in return.”

Ratchet watched Drift’s shoulders sink as weight seemed to slide from him like invisible molten lead.

“And then… Wing died.”

Ratchet exvented a soft sigh.

“He died, and I couldn’t save him like he tried to save me.”, said Drift with a soft tremble to his voice, “So I took this; and swore I’d use it the way he would have wanted me to.”

“Emulation.”

“Yeah.”, said Dirft in a whisper, “I thought… I thought maybe if I lived like he had, like he would have WANTED me to, it would all… stop.”

“All of what?”

“The grief. The nightmares. The thoughts that slip in when I least expect it.”

Ratchet carefully reached out, laying a hand on Drift’s shoulder.

“Somewhere along the way I… I think I lost who I was. I’m not Wing. I’m not a Knight.”

He looked up, “I’m Drift. I’m Deadlock. And I think I was afraid of finding out what that’s supposed to mean.”

“Whatever you want it to.”

“What if I don’t know what that is either?”

Ratchet couldn’t help the half grin on his face, “Drift, not everything needs a grand meaning. Not every name needs a plaque. Not every mech gets a statue.”

Drift looked at him, lost as the day he woke up in a run-down clinic wondering why he wasn’t dead.

“Sometimes… all you need to do is exist. All you need to do is be. Living is good enough.”

Drift’s finials twitched.

“You’re Drift. You’re kind of a hothead, you have next-to-no self preservation on a good day in my professional opinion-”

Drift snorted.

“And… you visit a tired medic on late shifts just to rile his temper and help him pass the last two hours of overtime. You race with Rodimus to clear his head and usually the whole main hall of the Lost Light. You keep Magnus on his toes, you do _what_ you can _when_ you can.”

Drift perked considerably.

“You sit next to a scientist and chat with him when Swerve’s is almost empty and remind him there’s life outside of a lab.”

Drift tilted his helm, one finial higher than the other.

“And that can be enough. You don’t have to save the whole world. Just the parts that matter to you.”

Drift was silent, finials level and twitching slowly as he processed the information before he spoke.

“… No one… No one ever told me that before.”

Ratchet watched, worried when Drift’s shoulders began to tremble. The medic’s other hand moved so that he was gripping the swordmech gently, “Drift?”

Drift let his helm tip back and laughed. He laughed from his stomach even as liquid beaded and dripped from the corners of his optics and he laughed like centuries of tamped down hysteria were being released.

Ratchet felt his spark clench, and he did the only thing he could think of. He tugged Drift to his chestplate, feeling servos scramble for a hold on armor plating as those laughs petered down to hacked sobs, then whimpers, then silence.

“You’re enough.”, whispered Ratchet, moving an arm around Drift’s waist, putting his other hand against the back of Drift’s helm and just holding him, “You’re enough, you’ve always been good enough.”

They stood in silence, Ratchet standing firm as Drift clung to him as he was buffeted by eons of emotion he had desperately tried to ignore.

Drift’s optics shuttered and he let Ratchet’s words settle in his processor.

_You are enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This also hurt me, and there's still a bit more pain to come.


	9. Regret: Redux

_Give me recipes for **sorry**_   
_I’m **admitting** I’m wrong_   
_Still your **memory** that punches me_   
_has **broken** the bone._

They drew closer and closer to the Lost Light. With each passing cycle, Drift seemed to relax more and more; forgoing the caps on his fangs and the rubberized covers for his claws.

And yet, simultaneously, he seemed to tense. Ratchet watched him pace with a frown; knowing what it was that nipped at Drift’s heels. He knew Drift felt watched by a reticule scope; jumped a the sound of Ratchet’s footsteps because they weren’t attached to who he expected.

Finally, the medic forced Drift to take a seat on the barren berth the white mech slept in, and dragged a seat to drop onto in front of Drift.

“Talk.”

“Nothing to talk about.”

“That’s a slagheap and a half and we both know it. Talk to me Drift.”

“About WHAT?!”, snapped the samurai.

There it was. The crack in the veneer.

Ratchet narrowed his optics, “What has you running scared, Drift.”

Drift hissed, his face in his servos now. The silence was tangible between them, heavy with words that needed to be spoken, needed to be admitted.

“…I miss him.”

Drift flinched, and said it again, “Dammit, _I MISS HIM_ okay?! I’m scared half out of my processor because after a move like this, even if I _DO_ stay on the LL for good this time, there’s just… just so much between us. He can’t forgive it, won’t, he SHOULDN’T forgive me.”

“Why?”

“I **LEFT** HIM.”, snapped Drift, “I TURNED COWARD AND RAN WAY, I LEFT HIM ALONE WHEN I **PROMISED I WOULDN’T.** ”

“He survived.”

“He deserves better than _SURVIVAL._ ”, growled Drift, “He deserves better than a kiss goodbye in the middle of the night. He deserves better than a hard frag and no contact. He deserved BETTER than being stuck in the Wreckers, for that callous BASTARD the autobots called a TacHead to choose him to careeen headlong into a hell he could barely handle.”

“… You know about the Garrus Nine mission.”

“I overheard Magnus talking to Rodimus about it once.”, sighed Drift, “It was what I was thinking about the night Rodimus and I talked about…”

“About?”

“About regret.”, said Drift moodily.

“You regret Perceptor?”

“No.”

“Then explain.”

“I…”, began Drift, taking in air and releasing it in a grand whoosh, “I love him. I could never regret him. Never. Not even when I saw the signs, Ratchet. I knew what kind of path he was being led down; I’ve _BEEN_ there.”

Ratchet sat quiet, watching Drift speak. And listening intently.

“We met on Turmoil’s ship. He was still a rookie, he still had hope in him. He was… he was so out of place, with Springer’s group. It took him all of ten kliks to begin talking to me, the motormouth.”

Ratchet snorted, Drift smiled.

“And then it all went downhill. His sparkchamber shattered right before my eyes, a lackey took out his optic and he just lay there, in pieces and still fighting to keep his spark beating even while he panicked. He does that, you know. When he’s very quiet, very still; it means he’s frantic inside. You all know him as this Grand Iceberg of Science but I know him as PERCY. Percy, who woke out of stasis to stare at his reflection and fight his way out of the medbay. Percy, who engaged emergency lockdown codes to seal the lab off to everyone as he began to rebuild himself..”

Drift shook his helm, “Percy, who sings to himself while he tinkers. Who taps out the tune of a song he listened to on Kimia while he waits for titration reports and Percy who came to me barely armored with a patch over an empty optical socket and asked me to teach him how to handle a rifle like he meant it.”

“But Perceptor-”

“Yeah, he already knew his way around weaponry. But he wanted to beat Decepticons at their own game. He wanted the kind of revenge you can revisit on cold nights and smile to yourself. He wanted to take out Cons like they tried to take him out.”

Ratchet’s optics widened.

“And I taught him what I knew, what I remembered.”, Drift sighed again, “I fell in love with a scientist and watched him turn into someone else, Ratchet. And I loved him so much I tried to stop it and just made it _WORSE._ ”

“How?”

“I got recognized.”, murmured Drift, hanging his helm, “I got recognized on the battlefield. Word spreads quickly in the old ranks… And tempers rise fast. They started hitting harder, more vicious and…”

“And the Wreckers retaliated in kind.”

“Yes.”, was the admission, “He was just… just passing by one we thought was dead and they weren’t and… they reached for him. They said Help Me… And he _shot_ them. Through the **optic**. No remorse, no hesitance, _with a **smile**_ **.** ”

Drift shivered, “Not a real smile, no. I’ve seen his smile. I’ve seen what happens when he’s happy and that wasn’t HAPPINESS… We fought, that night. We fought, spent a few days apart, and then one morning I wander out and there Percy and Blurr, duking it out. He grabbed part of Blurr’s helm and began to bend it; it was going to snap and I stopped him. I had to.”

“You brought him back.”

“I tried to. I taught him meditation; I taught him everything Wing had taught me so he’d never become like I was. The war took my life, my home, my sense of self… I wasn’t going to let it have Percy. I’ve lost enough. Primus could let me keep one damn thing just _ONE DAMN THING_ IN MY LIFE. ONE LITTLE PIECE OF FRAGGING **HAPPINESS!** ”

He barked his last sentences at the ceiling, optics briefly brightening in anger before they dimmed back down.

“And… He was coming back. He was being Percy again…”

“Drift, why did you leave?”

“I… I was afraid. I was afraid that by staying with them, this would just keep happening. That one day he wouldn’t be Percy anymore, he’d be Perceptor. He’d be the Wrecker. I couldn’t… I couldn’t risk losing that. So, I decided I had to go.”

Ratchet sighed.

“And then, there he was, on the Lost Light. There he was on the roster. A scientist. Not a soldier, not a sniper, not a paid killer he was a SCIENTIST again. And I realized I made a mistake. I never should have left.”

“How did that make you realize your ‘mistake’ as you call it?”

“Magnus warned me against associating with Perceptor; that he had something of a vendetta against the Decepticons. I was kind of offended, seeing as I was, y’know, THERE when that started and he just shook his helm and said it was a new one. Not long after that, I overheard Rodimus ask him what he meant and he told him that Perceptor had been on the Garrus Nine mission. Prowl’s orders.”

Ratchet nodded.

“Do you know why Perceptor was assigned to the Wreckers, Ratchet?”

“No.”

“Prowl had Perce assist with Kup’s rebuild after the disaster they pulled the old mech out of. Perce was there to oversee him. I don’t know what Prowl had Percy do, but it was something that required constant monitoring and it was something he didn’t want a soul to know.”

Drift looked to Ratchet, “He assigned Perceptor to a suicide squad.”

Ratchet nodded, “I see… Not unlike Prowl. Never liked the mech myself. Too sure of himself.”

Drift pushed himself to stand, “All that aside… Me leaving? I made Perceptor go cold faster than any Con skirmishes ever could. Because I was a coward and didn’t even THINK that Percy would be strong enough to handle things.”

“Everyone makes mistakes.”

“What would you know about that.”, snapped Drift unthinkingly.

“…I’ll show you the _headstones_ of mine, sometime.”

Drift turned sharply, optics wide. Ratchet looked levelly back at him, and continued, “Yeah, you messed up. You made a choice that wasn’t _JUST_ yours to make. You could have handled it better, but instead you’re making it again.”

“…”

“But now, you’re assuming Perceptor can’t forgive.”

Drift looked away.

“He misses you.”

“How do you know.”

“He and I had a few conversations. He’s missed you since you left. Maybe, instead of hiding from him this time, you could apologize. If **HE** decides there’s no place for you in his life, that’s on him. But you don’t get to decide what’s best for anyone but yourself.”

The console beeped, and Magnus’s voice tiredly sounded from it.

“Lost Light to unidentified craft. State your intentions or adjust your course westerly.”

Drift clenched his servos, his steps gliding forward to the pilot’s seat and he settled into it mechanically.

He activated the comm.

“Designation; Drift, reporting in with passenger. I have Ratchet on board. Permission to dock with you Lost Light?”

“Permission granted. Welcome home.”

Ratchet scoffed-

“ **Both** of you.”

Drift felt his spark drop to his tanks and rocket back up to his intake. He took a moment to collect himself before he answered.

“It’s… It’s good to be home.”

Ratchet grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Green Day Vocals] HOOOOOOOOOME WE'RE COMING HOOOOOOOOOOME AGAAAAAAAAAAAIN


	10. Three Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interlude of Drift's wandering spacecraft docking with the Lost Light. The action, angst, and applicable homorobotic subtext will continue next chapter!

**[Three hours between the termination of the comm and the actual docking.]**

Two and a half of them consisted of Drift snarling swears and epithets Ratchet had either never heard before, or hadn’t heard in eons.

The medic was impressed.

It all started with Drift venting a sigh and muttering that seeing Rodimus first might be a terrible idea, and Ratchet offhandedly remarking that it probably wouldn’t BE Rodimus.

“…Then who, Magnus? That doesn’t exactly tickle my fancy either.”

“More than likely it’ll be Megatron, but who kn-”

“WHAT?!”

And now here they were, Drift dramatically sprawled in the pilot’s seat and hissing to himself in annoyance as Ratchet snorted and wheezed in amusement

“It's not FUNNY.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. But you’re pretty hard to take serious with your finials crooked like a bad weld while hissing like a turbofox with its tail caught in a trap.”

Moodily, Drift lifted a pede and put it against Ratchet’s shoulder; and shoved.

“Rude.”

Ratchet couldn’t hold back the guffaw that burst from him like a victorious vulture.

=============================================================

Megatron rubbed his temples, glaring at Ultra Magnus.

The Enforcer looked amused, as close as he could get to laughing. Magnus had just informed Megatron, a few moments after the communication with Drift ended, who was coming back, and exactly who they once were.

“So.”

“So?”, repeated Magnus.

“You mean to tell me, that the first mech he is going to lay eyes upon after suffering Primus knows what during his exile… Is the one he remembers as a Warlord. Who ordered him to serve with Turmoil.”

“Precisely.”

“Where is Rodimus?”

Magnus shrugged sarcastically, “Well, the poor young Prime is VERY tired and I decided I should, for once, allow him to sleep through his duties. Seeing as how you claim to be so much more effective, I figured you wouldn’t have much of a problem.”

“You did this on PURPOSE.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I did try to have Perceptor here as support. He doesn’t seem to be answering his comms; more thna likely he’s down by the engines doing maintenance; comms have always acted strangely when too close to those monstrosities of science and unchecked arrogance.”

============================================================

The lab was quiet as Brainstorm left; having draped a berthcover over Perceptor’s shoulders. The scientist had been frantically working, unnerved after his most recent appointment with Rung; he had dozed off while awaiting readouts on a few chemical analyses and Braistorm simply did not have the spark to rouse him.

It was the most peaceful recharge Perceptor had managed to get since Drift had left.

Perceptor mumbled to himself, twitching servos and yawning. His reticule scope beeped, and whirred as it powered down. 

His comms beeped. They beeped again, and Perceptor slept on, oblivious to the world.

==========================================================

Drift took a deep breath as his ship powered down, and Ratchet patted his shoulder with a heavy hand.

“C’mon. My backstruts can SENSE decent berths and I need to give you a halfway decent lookover anyway.”

Drift rolled his optics, rising and collecting his swords before meeting Ratchet at the exit hatch of the small spacecraft.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

The hatch hissed, and opened to allow an influx of bright, pure light.

“Hello Drift.”, said Magnus as Drift’s optics began adjusting to the sudden illumination, “Welcome home.”

Megatron stood behing the hulking blue Enforcer, and merely inclined his helm in greeting. Drift twitched his finials, and neither said a word. Yet.

“ All well and good Magnus, but right now, I’d like my medbay and then a decent damn recharge.”, grumbled Ratchet, “I have to look over our one-time exilee here anyway. Follow me Drift.”

Drift suddenly yawned, fangs glinting before clawed servos moved to cover the action in the presence of officers. His mouth closed, dimmed optics flickering in recognition.

“Alright, alright.”, he said in the rasp he’d grown fond of once again.

The sudden jerk of Magnus stepping back and the amused snort from Megatron made it worth seeming rude.


	11. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My heart is be at in g from me  
> I am standing all alone  
> Please call me only   
> If you are coming h o m e

“Get a good recharge in, Ratch.”

Ratchet tiredly waved a hand at Drift before he spoke, “Yeah, yeah. Same t’you kid. No all night patrols, no double checking what you’ve already triple checked, got it? I’ll find out if you pull that.”

Drift rolled his optics as Ratchet plodded through the open habsuite door with a content sigh.

“G’night.”

The door hissed shut.

Drift turned, continuing down the hall automatically. He nodded at the few faces he saw, grinning when he saw camera units turn sharply to focus on his figure. He gave a half salute to the security feeds; and then paused.

The laboratory.

There was dim light through the reinforced windows along the wall, and he squinted.

There was Perceptor, sprawled even though he sat on the stool at the counter he preferred to work at.

Drift swallowed hard, lifting a hand and tapping in the code he remembered to this day. The door chimed, and hissed open. He walked in silently, shaking his helm at the sight of Perceptor deep in recharge. He took in the view, the tubing at Perceptor’s sides swaying with every exvent; the twitches of servos, the soft murmurs.

He laid a hand on Perceptor’s shoulder, and shook him gently.

“Percy.”

“…Mmmn…”

A helm turned away from Drift and Perceptor’s arms curled in to pillow it.

“Percy, the lab isn’t a berth.”

“Mmmcomfy.”

“I know, but a berth is comfier and doesn’t stink like cleaning solvent.”

“…Mm.”

“C’mon.”, sighed Drift, tugging at Perceptor’s arm until he groaned and half stirred. Optics still offlined and shuttered, he leaned heavily against Drift and sighed.

“Hmm… Drift?”

“Course.”, scoffed Drift, settling Perceptor against him and draping the scientist’s arm over his shoulders, “Who else is going to ship you off to berth, hm?”

“Mmm.. H’vn’t dreamed ‘f you for ‘while. ‘S nice.”

He thought he was dreaming. Drift felt his spark clench.

“Miss you. Miss you lots.”

Drift helped the still mostly asleep scientist walk out of the lab, tapping the entrypad to lock the door behind them. The shuffle of pedes down the hall seemed muted somehow, and Perceptor continued to exvent evenly.

The tapping of the entrypad for Perceptor’s habsuite was a sudden scream in the darkness. Drift walked him in, guiding him to the berth. The cover still tangled around Perceptor’s shoulders was pulled tighter as the scientist settled into sleep once more. But not before one more motion.

He reached out, and Drift froze when his hand was grabbed by the sniper-turned-scientist. And a gentle, sleepy squeeze.

“Love you.”, was the soft hum.

Drift felt his finials droop as he smiled. He stroked over the back of Perceptor’s servos, lifting them to kiss before he placed the scientist’s hand back upon the berth.

“Love you too.”

He turned, stepping out quickly, but not noticing as Perceptor’s optic unshuttered and dimly onlined in time to see a blurred white shape disappear through his door.

Perceptor dropped back into recharge undisturbed, clinging to what he thought was a dream.

And then the morning comes…


	12. Invertebrate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just enjoy it; everyone deserves a break.”

_Barely **stuttered** out a joke of a romantic stuck to my tongue_   
_Weighed down with words too **over-dramatic**_   
_Tonight it’s “It can’t get much **worse** ”_   
_Vs. “No one should ever **feel** like…”_

“A strange dream?”, asked Rung, “How so?”

“I… I haven’t dreamed of Drift in quite some time. Yet, last night I had one in which he walked me back to my hab and helped me to berth.”, said Perceptor simply, “And lo, when I awoke I was sprawled rather inelegantly about.”

“Have you had episodes of sleepwalking before?”

“It’s an occasional happening.”, admitted Perceptor, “Usually when I’m exhausted. Caused great fun amongst my unit.”

“I’d imagine.”, mused Rung, “And it was specifically Drift?”

“Yes. Do you think it’s something I should worry about?”

“… Personally, no. Dreams are strnage things; still not fully understood in this field of medical study. I’m quite certain its nothing to worry about. Perhaps you were thinking about him, or your subconscious wanted something familiar to explain the physical action of walking to your processor.”

Perceptor nodded, his frown lessening.

“Though, considering the elements of the dream, perhaps you are working a bit too much?”

“Fair enough. I forgot the date a few days ago, leading to much amusement from my… colleague.”

“Hm. From what I hear, Swerve has found another excuse to fuel the inebriation of the whole crew. Maybe you should consider taking part? Just to get out of the lab for a while, see faces that aren’t your reflection in a beaker.”

“Good idea. I’m sure Brainstorm will be fighting to drag me along with him.”

Rung smiled, reaching over to pat the teal section of Perceptor’s arm, “It’s good you have friends like Brainstorm.”

“I’ve never seen such a loose use of the word friend.”

Rung snorted, and Perceptor managed a small grin.

“Is there anything else you wish to talk about?”

“Not really. Life has been surprisingly gentle with me thus far. Almost worrying.”

“Just enjoy it; everyone deserves a break.”

A break.

‘A break’ is not how Perceptor would describe the furious knocking on his habsuite door by an excited Brainstorm. They walked together, Perceptor lost in thought as Brainstorm animatedly chattered on beside him and they passed mechs singular and in groups. He noticed how a few of them glanced at them, the occasional nervous face reminding him to teach Brainstorm a lesson in being calm later.

“…kept his original voice, can’t say I’ve ever been proud of him before this but- Ceptor, helloo? You listening?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, sorry. Lost in my processor for a moment there.”

“…Right. Anyway, pay attention; Rodimus is here and you know how that mech gets when he has a little in him.”

“Don’t remind me about that; it tempts me to suggest terrible stunts for him to attempt.”

“Y’know, one might almost say you dislike him a bit.”, snorted Brainstorm as he grabbed Perceptor’s arm and yanked him into the fray. 

They fjorded their way to the bar, inching along to the corner Perceptor preferred. It was an odd angle near the wall; hard for the crowd to spread and pack into it.

“Ah well, such is our luck.”, sighed Brainstorm upon seeing Megatron had taken their place.

“What do you mean?”, asked Perceptor, giving a nod to the co-captain, who raised his drink in greeting, “It’s simply Megatron.”

Brainstorm looked at him, one optic squinted as though Perceptor had just started speaking in a dead language.

“What? We play chess on occasion.”

“…You play chess. With the ex-Warlord of the Decepticons.”

“Yes.”

“…Wreckers.”, sighed Brainstorm.

Perceptor rolled his optics, brushing ahead to take a seat beside Megatron. Swerve looked at him with a confusing expression, glancing at the co-captain nervously before setting a drink in front of the scientist. As Perceptor’s servos gripped the glass, Swerve suddenly patted his arm.

“Just… don’t shoot anyone, okay my mech?”, said the bartender cheerily.

“…Al-Alright?”

Perceptor looked bewildered as Swerve exvented a relieved sigh and bustled away. He looked to Megatron.

“Have I, perhaps, overlooked something?”

“… That’s a way to put it.”, mused the co-captain-

And then everything went down in flames.

Perceptor shrugged, and then there was a weight on his back. He forcibly straightened in his seat, and Brainstorm audibly winced as the ex-Wrecker turned…

And was face-to-face with Drift.

The bar went silent. Rodimus groaned an “Oh NO” as he put his face in his servos, and Megatron already looked set to step in should things get violent.

“Erm. H-Hey Percy.”

“You’re back.”

“Uh, yeah. From outer space.”, Drift joked weakly.

Perceptor’s expression was blank as he processed what he was seeing. He turned back around, and Swerve seemed to hide behind a rack of glasses as Perceptor sipped delicately at his drink. Brainstorm sighed heavily, moving back from where Perceptor sat and putting his hands over his audials as though awaiting an explosion.

Drift swallowed hard. He hadn’t been shot in the head or dissolved in acid, so that had to be a good sign. He watched the level of liquid in Perceptor’s glass diminish a little quicker than normal… and reached out to put a hand on Perceptor’s shoulder.

“Percy?”

The Wrecker stood suddenly. He turned on one heel.

“What.”

His voice had an edge sharp enough to slice through finials. Drift winced, laughing nervously, “Are uh… You okay?”

“Perfectly fine. Not a SINGLE PROBLEM. Whyever do you ask?”

Brainstorm watched as Drift shrugged. The ex-Con shook his helm, knowing that any second, a disaster would take hold. He hoped Rewind was recording.

“Well uh, y’know, it’s been awhile. I was wondering if we could have a little chat, y’know, after this whole… thing? Percy?”

“A chat.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Yes, here, just let me clear my time between therapy and wanting to peel Rodimus’s faceplate off-”

Drift’s optics went wide.

“I think I can fit you in somewhere between ‘vindictive rage’ and my target practice, hm?”

The sarcasm was ascerbic, and nearly tangible.

“Aw, c’mon Percy.”, said Drift, “Didn’t you miss me?”

THWACK!

Drift stumbled to the side, catching himself on Megatron’s knee and putting servos against his burning cheek. Perceptor glared down at him, furious, before turning on his heel and marching out. Skids watched him stalk out, and snickered.

Brainstorm moved to help Drift steady himself, but the samurai waved him off with a wince.

“Primus, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’M FINE, calm down everyone.”, wheezed the swordsmech, “I uh… I really kinda deserved that one.”

“Indeed you did.”, mused Megatron.

“Doesn’t the peanut gallery have a closing time?”

“Isn’t it hard to talk with your foot in your mouth.”

“…Touche, old mech. Touche.”


	13. Pursuit

_Yeah, you’re worse than nicotine_

A week.

An entire week of trying to get Perceptor alone, to talk to him; stymied at every turn.

And yet, Drift doggedly tried.

He peered into the lab, softly calling for the scientist, “Perceptor?”

“He’s not here.”, was the answer from Brainstorm, “I went ahead and kicked him out before his stalker showed up.”

Drift’s finials perked, and he narrowed his optics, “Someone’s following him around?”

Brainstorm turned, expression deadpan, “Yeah. YOU.”

“I’m not STALKING him, I’m trying to talk to him.”

“Did it ever occur that right now he doesn’t WANT to talk to you?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“But? But WHAT?”

“Look, it’s none of your business, alright? I just need to talk to him, to explain myself and-”

“Drift, there IS NO EXPLAINING. None that he’ll listen to right now anyway.”

“Says you.”

Brainstorm set a beaker down with a loud clack, and massaged his temples, “Drift, close the door. Me and you need to have a talk before you even THINK of going near Perceptor again.”

Drift stepped into the lab, letting the door slip shut behind him. He warily approached Brainstorm, eyeing the beakers on the counter.

“Nothing volatile, or you wouldn’t have been able to get in.”

“Alright. So… what are we talking about?”

“Have you given an inkling of thought to what Perceptor went through?”

“Of course I have.”

“I’m not talking about with the Wreckers. I’m talking about NOW. As in finding out you threw yourself on the chopping block and bounced out.”

Drift narrowed his optics again.

“You need to understand, Drift. This has nothing to do with Perceptor as a WRECKER. This is Perceptor the Scientist, the Kimia-nerd, okay?”, continued Brainstorm, his mask clicking back to show the rest of his face, “This is not Perceptor, who has daily missions involving busting caps in ;dirty Cons’ anymore. This is a Perceptor who has long hours in a lab to stew and ponder and think.”

Drift moved closer.

“This is a Perceptor who spent a long time wondering if it was his fault. Not a Perceptor who was able to stave off those thoughts with gunfire and maneuvers.”

Drift winced.

“Before you left, Perceptor missed you. And I mean MISSED YOU. To the point where riling him up for some good old fashioned banter was nearly impossible.”

“Since when are you an expert on Perceptor-ese?”

“Since I was the only one who TALKED TO HIM the entire time; see, this is where you are consistently fragging this whole thing up.”, snapped Brainstorm, “Perceptor DOESN’T HAVE WHAT YOU HAVE DRIFT.”

Drift blinked.

“Perceptor doesn’t have a Ratchet. He doesn’t have a Rodimus. He doesn’t have Magnus anymore and he doesn’t have many willing audials to listen to him. All he has is PERCEPTOR. Are you getting it? He’s not going to recover from the mech he loves being an absolute flake as quick as oh, say, THAT PARTICULAR MECH. All he has is me, his therapist, and his chess-buddy. And only ONE of those is available at all hours.”

“Wh-”

“And before you ask why he doesn’t just ‘go out and talk to people’ I’d like to remind you that its Perceptor we are talking about. I almost had to corner him to talk to him about YOU. He was terrified to talk to you.”

“What?! Why?”

Brainstorm looked at the swordsmech, “Because he was afraid you wouldn’t remember much of him. Wonder why that is. Might have something to do with that nasty case of Savior Complex you have.”

“I don’t-”

“Yes, you do.”, said Brainstorm, “And look, I get it. You have baggage. It’s heavy, and hard to carry…”

Brainstorm looked Drift in the optics, “But you aren’t the ONLY one. Did you ever wonder why Perceptor is the way he is? Because I’ve uh… heard some things.”

“Some things?”

“I’ve eavesdropped on Magnus a few times, I’ll admit. I think, if you want to understand some things, give in to a few of those Deadlockian Urges, Drift. Do some prying. Specifically about Prowl’s interest in a Kimian scientist assigned to the wreckers, and the oldest of his unit, Kup. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

“And how in the hell am I supposed to access what sounds like classified information?”

“Easy. An abuse of power, and a connection.”

“…Connec- Megatron.”

“Exactly. He’s a co-captain, with a distinct distaste for underhanded Autobot tactique. That’s your next stop, after here, got it? You need to stop trying to woo what you don’t really understand anymore. Let him breathe. Let him recover for a bit.”

Drift’s finials droop, “..Do you… Do you think-”

“That he’ll forgive you, and give you another chance? He’s already forgiven you, Drift. But he’s a scientist. He has to find a way to justify it.”

Drift nodded, turning to go.

“And one more thing.”

“What?”

“Anything you find out… go to Perceptor first. Don’t lie. Be honest. REALLY honest. Especially about the fact you were damn terrified of asking him about it.”

“Says who?”

“Would you have spoken with me this long if you weren’t?”

Drift glared at Brainstorm’s grin before he slunk out of the lab.

Brainstorm turned back to his work, “Let’s see if you’ll do what I think you’ll do… I hope you do.”

The lab was quiet again, aside from the clink of beakers and the hum of consoles.


	14. Detour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I would swallow my pride,  
> I would choke on the rinds  
> But the lack thereof  
> Would leave me empty inside

Tap, tap, tap.

“Enter.”

The door opened, and Megatron raised an optic ridge at the sight of Drift standing at attention. A sharp salute, and Drift stepped to allow the door to close.

They stood in silence a moment before Megatron spoke, “I’ve swept my hab for listening equipment. There’s nothing; though they’ve tried.”

“Thank Primus.”, sighed Drift heavily, walking to drop onto the chair at Megatron’s desk, “Last thing I need is weird questions about you on top of the ones about the voice and the claws and lack of happy attitude.”

“What brings you to my little lair then? You’re lucky you caught me, I was about to head off to a previous engagement.”

Drift scoffed, “What mooning in an awkward fashion over your ‘rival’ and calling it planning?”, he said sarcastically, making air quotes with his fingers around the word rival.

“…Still a loudmouth after all this time.”

“One of your favorite qualities about me, wasn’t it? Outspoken, brash, murderous and angry.”

“You wore it better than Starscream, on occasion.”

They both snickered, the tension easing a little before Megatron waved a hand, “But in all seriousness, what brings you here at this hour? I am somewhat pressed for time.”

“I need to… talk to you. About something.”

“Someone.”

“… Okay, someONE. Smartaft.”

“Perceptor.”

“Why not just say why I’m here, if you know so much.”

“You want to know why its so hard for you to connect with him now, when it was easy for you in the past.”

“Stop that.”

“You want to know why he’s changing the way he is.”

“What did I literally just say.”

Megatron snorted at Drift’s alarmed expression before continuing, “Perceptor is a scientist on the Lost Light now, not a Wrecker. He has more time to dwell on things… Things he’s done, things he must yet do, things he feels he has yet to repent for.”

Drift nodded.

“Before he was a Wrecker, he was a scientist on Kimia, according to his files. Nondescript; an astrophycisist who dabbled in other scientific realms.”

“Yeah, and?”

“Who caught the attention of Prowl.”

“He’s never liked him. Called him some real colorful things, I gotta say. Percy has a real grasp of Lower Iaconian, surprisingly, and can sure chain some lowbrow insults together.”

“From what I have seen, he has reason.”

“What do you mean?”

“Perceptor was contracted by Prowl for several projects, one in aprticular stands out; it strikes me as something that could… bother him, so to speak.”

“Not much got under Percy’s plating…”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Percy was all about the ‘experience’, in a way. If it could teach him something, he was interested. Unless it infringed on one of two things.”

“And what were those?”

“If it put someone in danger, or if it took away their right of choice.”

“Choice?”

“Uh, free will. He was… He was kind of big on the whole thing after the Turmoil incident. You see, Springer wasn’t too hot on the idea of his resident scientist-slash-medic-slash-homebody being on the warfront. It was Kup who supported Percy’s decision.”

Megatron nodded, waving for Drift to continue.

“Percy didn’t feel Springer had the right to say anything, seeing as the Wreckers would have left him behind after his injury. Even Prowl acted more like an aft to him afterwards, but his choice ended up being the right one.”

“Hm. Interesting.”

“There was a thing he’d always say, some parable about war or something. I can’t really remember it, but it always ended with ‘better a soldier with a garden than a gardener in a war.’”

“I know of what he speaks. It’s a good metaphor for his situation.”

Drift nodded, opening his mouth to speak.

**_[“Specifically about Prowl’s interest in a Kimian scientist assigned to the wreckers, and the oldest of his unit, Kup.”]_ **

Drift froze.

“Something wrong?”

“What happened to Kup. Before Percy was in his unit.?”

“Many terrible things. Forced dosages, mania, hallucinations… it resulted in a rebuild.”

“Who headed it.”

“… Perceptor.”

Drift stared at Megatron before he softly asked, “A full rebuild? And reboot?”

“Yes. From pedes to processor.”

“And Percy was requested by Prowl on that.”

“He was.”

“….”

“Now is a good time to breathe deep, and then say what’s on your mind.”

Drift swallowed, “Perceptor was assigned to his unit with Kup. As a scientist. I don’t know why this question never occured to me but, why would a Wrecker Unit need a SCIENTIST more than oh, say, a medic? Percy joked a few times that he was an ‘ex-lackey’ of Prowl but… I always assumed it was about him being a Wrecker specifically…”

Megatron smiled slowly, “Drift?”

“Hm?”

“The files on the ‘rebuild’ of Kup? Missing. It’s blank space; unavailable to the public. Which means Prowl had them pulled and classified.”

“…Percy’s been living with something none of us know about.”, murmured Drift, “Storm said he only had his therapist, which I’m assuming is Rung, Brainstorm himself, and his chess-buddy; whoever the hell that is. No one he could really talk to about something like that. They weren’t involved, weren’t apart of what he calls the ‘long-dead past’ so he’d never bring it up.”

“All he had who knew of it… was you.”, replied Megatron, his tone gentle.

“… I broke his trust, didn’t I.”

“Yes.”, said Megatron, “He is at war with himself. On the one hand, you are probably the one mech out of us all he would lay his life on the line for. You gave him happiness during a time he had nothing but schematics and mechanics to distract him from an unfortunate truth.”

Drift looked up.

“You made him feel worthy when all others saw him as expendable.”, finished Megatron, “And you left. Twice.”

Drift winced.

“You have suffered, Drift. That much is obvious. What you have endured is unimaginable to most mechs, and that is the key. It is unimaginable to them. Their worst is not the same as yours, but it hurts just as much. No, Perceptor did not have to crawl out of the gutters. He didn’t have to stomach withdrawal.”

“But at least I had others with me.”

“Misery loves company, but often mistakes it for competition.”

“… Percy always hated when I’d talk about Crystal City. He called them manipulators. Said they were using me to prove a point, to justify their means.”

“Was he correct?”

“At the time, I didn’t think so. I’d just written it off as him being unenlightened but after my exile… after some thinking… Maybe he was right, to a degree.”

“They repaired your body, but your processor suffered.”

Drift sighed, “This is all well and good but… how can this even help me?”

“When you had questions about your own worth, did you want romance, or someone to talk to?”

Drift froze again, looking wide-optic’d at Megatron, “..How do you DO that?”

“Eons of parsing political theory and essaying.”

Drift slumped in his seat, “I’ve been going about this all wrong. Completely wrong. Percy was my friend before he was my lover. And right now, he doesn’t even know if we can be friends, does he?”

“Exactly. You aren’t chasing the slipstream of a Wrecker-sniper anymore. This is the Soldier with the Garden; not the Gardener in the war.”

Drift looked up, “..Maybe its time I asked him how the flowers are doing.”

“Good start. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a chess match.”

“Wait, chess?”

“Yes, its a strategy game about opportune moments and maneuvers, not throwing yourself in the line of fire willy-nilly. Not really your ‘thing’ as I understand-”

“Ha, cute, get torqued. Anyway, who do you even- ARE YOU JOKING.”

Megatron snickered, and nodded.


	15. Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I won't lie no more you can bet  
> I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget

“I just don’t understand what he’s trying to do.”

“Start from the beginning.”

Perceptor sighed, “Morning after the fiasco at Swerve’s. He was waiting outside my door to say good morning.”

“And you...?”

“Ignored him.”

“And after that?”

“Halfway through my shift he was at the window, waiting. I sent him on his way.”

“And dare I ask how?”

“A few choice words.”

“...Oh my. And after that?”

“He showed up again a few hours later, so I flipped the shades on the door-side windows. After my shift, he was by my hab door YET AGAIN.”

“Oh my.”

“Exactly. He continues to pop up regardless of where I am, or what I’m doing. I’m half tempted to take a swing at him, but we all remember how it ended the LAST time I took that route.”

Rung sighed, “Perceptor...”

“Hm?”

“Have you though, perhaps, he’s trying to make amends?”

“For what? Bouncing twice, playing hero, or saying the exact WRONG thing to my face in public?”

“... All of the above.”

Perceptor looked unamused, narrowing his optics, “And so what if he is? Who’s to say I have any interest in forgiving him? Why SHOULD I forgive him, hm? So far all its gotten me is sparkache and suffering.”

“Because you’ve already forgiven him, haven’t you?”, said Rung knowingly.

Perceptor was quiet, unable to meet Rung’s gaze.

Rung pulled his glasses off, folding the arms and setting the spectacles upon his desk, “Perceptor, with matters like this, there is no logical end. None.”

“Challenge accepted.”

“If the spark operated on logic, would we need a processor?”, asked Rung slyly, noting the frown on Perceptor’s face, “Perceptor, forgiving him; wanting him back in your life, doesn’t strike me as a bad thing. Yes, he has made some rather egregious errors-”

“And the understatement of the stellar cycle goes to...”

“Now, now. Anyway, yes, he has messed up. But, from what you told me... Had you told him of your still romantic feelings towards him?”

“...No.”

“Had you given him any kind of hint in that direction, at all?”

“...Not really.”

“Perceptor, had you even really TALKED to him at all?”

“...Not... exactly.”

“Then can you really blame him for misreading the situation?”

“When you put it that way, no.”

“Perceptor... you have your secrets. So does he. A relationship is built on trust-”

“I DID trust him-”

“Did you? Or did you keep mum in the fear he’d leave sooner?”

“I...”

“Perceptor; he already passed a judgement of sorts on you. And he decided you were worth his time, worth opening up to. I can’t tell you why he left. I wish I could, but I just don’t know. But the universe decided to put you both in the same predicament yet again; and he stayed.”

“That... that wasn’t for ME, he stayed for Rodimus.”

“He certainly didn’t run away from you; acted wary, yes, shy even, but who can blame him?”

Perceptor was quiet.

“Perceptor, what are you afraid of?”

The sniper looked hounded. He fidgeted in his seat, glancing from door to window to wall to floor and his servos tangled with each other.

“I... I’m afraid of what he can do. To me.”

“Physically? Or emotionally?”

“Emotionally. I don’t like this feeling of not being fully in control. I don’t like daydreaming about our time in the Wreckers, I don’t like revisiting our times at Swerves’ it TERRIFIES me.”

“Why does it terrify you?”

“Because... I... He, I don’t know.”

“Perceptor.”

The ex-Wrecker looked up.

“Does it scare you to think you are worth loving after so long thinking you were ‘just a scientist’, ‘cannon-fodder’ all those things they told you you were?”, asked Rung gently.

“...Yes.”

“Are you afraid of that being wrong?”

“....Yes.”, said Perceptor, his voice smaller than Rung had heard it in any of their sessions.

“Perceptor, has it ever occurred that maybe... your view of yourself has been skewed?”

“..I’m... I’m just a scientist. Just a clown with a gun.”

“Not to Drift. To Drift you are someone worth loving, pursuing, someone worth knowing. To me, you have worth. To Rodimus, Brainstorm, Megatron... Why are you so afraid, Perceptor?”

Rung moved from behind his desk to the front of it, standing before Perceptor who hunched into himself. The therapist put a hand on Perceptor’s.

“I’m... just a scientist. Just a clown with a gun. A pawn, I’m someone to use.”

“Not to him.”

“How do you know?”

“Call it intuition. Call it several millenia of psychiatric study. Call it being a witness to how he watches you.”

Perceptor shook his helm, trying to form words, to say something to combat what Rung was saying when he felt hands on his shoulders now. He looked up, trying to mask the confusion on his face and failing.

“Perceptor; you’re allowed to be illogical. You’re allowed to do something silly and just for yourself.”

“But, I...”

“An equation cannot help its solution. And if you find some kind of peace in Drift’s company, and he in yours, then why not try? And really try, this time. I am not saying you should throw what he has done out the window; that would be far too painful. You must deal with that first. But the RIGHT way. Talk to him. Be open with him. I think you’d be surprised.”

“How do you know, Rung?”

“He and Ratchet spoke about you, you know.”, said Rung, “Ratchet didn’t tell me the details, and I didn’t ask. But... He cares about you Perceptor. He has for a long, long time. Heal from what has happened; and then, if you feel you still want him in your life, let him back in. Slowly.”

Perceptor sat, quiet, contemplative; then nodded.

“I... I’ll do that.”

“And, Perceptor?”

“Yes?”

“You are worth loving, just as much as the highest Prime ora gladiator in the ring. You are worth loving, remember that.”

“...I will try.”


	16. Step by Step

_Step 1, come a little **closer**_   
_Step 2, **rest** upon my shoulder_   
_Step 3, I’m calling you **baby**_   
_Three steps away from **me**_

**You are worth loving.**

It haunted Perceptor as he returned to his shift. It wove through the clink of beakers and the soft sounds and the tune he would hum to himself. He frowned, noting the tremble in his hands and sighed.

Brainstorm looked at him for a moment before passing closer and laying a hand on shoulder.

“Go home, Ceptor.”

“I cannot; there is simply too much I have to take care of, and slacking off won’t-”

“You’re a week ahead on everything, Ceptor. Go home. Relax. Take a second to get your processor in order, no one’s going to hold it against you.”

“But I-”

“No excuses. This isn’t easy for you, and that’s alright. Go on, get some you-time.”

Perceptor sighed heavily, slumping in his seat before his helm tilted to look back up at Brainstorm.

“Thank you.”

“What’re friends for, yeah? See you tomorrow.”

Perceptor’s optics flickered like a confused blink, before he nodded, “Yes, of course.”

Brainstorm watched Perceptor meticulously clean up his workspace, patting the scientist on the shoulder before leaving his side. Perceptor walked slowly, his processor tumbling over itself. He nearly passed by his habsuite door, catching himself with an annoyed mutter before backtracking a few steps.

He reached out to tap in the code, and he heard it.

“Perceptor?”

He turned, sourly eyeing the samurai for a moment before schooling his expression into his normal stoic mask, “What, Drift.”

“Can we talk?”

“If this is some half-cocked attempt to get back into my good graces, or heaven forbid my BERTH, I’ll have you remember I’m not as against ripping helms off as I once was.”

“And I’d let you, if that’s what this is about.”, was Drift’s quiet reply, “There are things I need to tell you, okay? Stuff you should have heard from me a long time ago but didn’t; because for all my talk I can be a coward at the best of times.”

Perceptor jerked backwards at the admission, silent for a moment before he turned once more and tapped in his code.

“Let’s hear what you have to say then.”

Drift followed him in, watched the ex-Wrecker power down his scope and set it aside. Behind the inset optic lens (to hide the modified internal components) a soft whirr sounded. Perceptor pressed along the side of his helm until there was a click.

Drift watched at Perceptor slid the entire setup free, leaving a shining space in his helm; which he covered with a patch.

“Still removable?”

“Yes.”, replied Perceptor, “It makes it easier for me to tweak the microlenses; Ratchet still says I should just get a replacement optic and keep the external piece; but it would decrease my effectiveness. Besides, with the inset lens over the gear, no one can tell I have only one actual optic. Couple that with the patch, and I just come off as eccentric.”

Drift listened and nodded, waiting until the patch was settled over the space in Perceptor’s helm and following him to the couch in front of the holoscreen.

The scientist dropped onto it with a heavy sigh, waving a hand for Drift to do the same.

The samurai gracefully sat, feeling hip joints pop as he settled.

“Now. What is it you wanted to say?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

Perceptor made a bitter noise in his throat.

“For lying to you.”

Perceptor narrowed his optic.

Drift exvented softly before beginning, “When I left you, in the Wreckers, it was selfish. I was afraid and running scared because I was worried. I was worried that exposure to me would change you. In a bad way. So I did what I felt was the only option. I ran like a turbofox with its tail between its legs. And I hurt you by doing that.”

Perceptor looked… shocked, in all honesty. He tilted his helm and Drift cleared his throat before he continued to speak.

“I didn’t want to leave. But I felt it was my only option; because of a rather heft miscalculation on my part. For somereason, even after seeing what happened on Turmoil’s ship, seeing you rebuild, seeing you do everything you had done… I assumed you wouldn’t be strong enough to handle yourself. Because I’m… kind of an idiot.”

Perceptor felt his lips quirk slightly, and viciously quashed the traitorous urge to snicker at Drift’s drooping finials.

“I never expected to see you again. It hurt, but I told myself I would live with it because its what I deserved… And then I saw you here, again. In the plating and real as I am.”

“Did it surprise you?”

“Yes. I spent cycles thinking you had been taken by the war.”

Perceptor’s expression soured a touch, “Not entirely inaccurate.”

“I heard about Garrus Nine.”

Silence.

“Another time. But back to the here and now. I avoided you. I shouldn’t have done that, I should have gone to you and explained myself, told you what happened and why I did what i did. I’m sorry for being dishonest. I’m sorry for being a gung-ho dipstick and trying to save everyone without even thinking that maybe there are mechs who want me around. I’m sorry for thinking with my spark so much.”

Drift looked at him, “If you can’t forgive me, I understand. I wouldn’t forgive me for what I’ve put you through. But… I’m willing to try and earn it. If that means letting you be for a while, I can. I know you need your space to think, but I was just so scared you hated me that I fritzed out a bit, y’know?”

Perceptor nodded slowly, his systems shocked at what Drift was saying.

“You don’t have to make a decision right now, so don’t panic about not saying anything. But I felt you deserved to finally hear this. You’re worth swallowing my pride for.”

A hitch to the idle hum of Perceptor’s internals. That word again, worth. He watched as Drift got to his pedes, and smiled. A real smile, warm and relieved.

“If anything, thank you for listening to me. Maybe I’ll see you around, Perceptor. Have a good evening, alright?”

Drift began to pass him by, and Perceptor watched the rolling gait, counted the steps… And made a decision.

He caught Drift’s servos in his own as the samurai passed by the arm of the couch, and the swordsmech paused, looking down in surprise. Perceptor turned his helm, just a touch, just enough that Drift could hear his words loud and clear.

“I’ve told you before… It’s Percy. For you, it’s always Percy.”

The scientist looked up to see Drift’s optics light up in understanding.

“Sure thing… Percy. See you around?”

“Of course.”

Perceptor released Drift’s hand, let him walk away. The door hissed as Drift left, and Perceptor let his helm tilt back.

The pair of them shared a smile, thought they had no idea they did. Drift grinned as his steps clicked down the hall, as Perceptor’s thin-lipped smile lit up the dim space of his hab suite.

The Lost Light rumbled on through space, stars winking as it passed.


	17. Acceptance

Perceptor snorted into his drink, coughing after he set it back down and thudding a fist against his chestplate as Drift ranted on and on.

“ROCKS. CAN YOU FRAGGIN’ BELIEVE THIS I WAS GETTING MY AFT KICKED BY ROCKS.”

Ratchet wheezed his laughter, shaking his helm as Drift slumped with a dramatic sigh.

“Fraggin. Rocks. AND A REALLY WHINY MECH WHO FLAPPED A LOT.”

Perceptor patted Drift’s shoulder before reaching into his own subspace, “Speaking of rocks-”

He set a small box on the table, and Drift lit up immediately, leg bouncing as he looked at Perceptor.

“Yes, they are for you.”

The box was torn open, and Drift cooed happily, pulling out one of the heavy candies. Looking like gemstones, they were opaque enough to show the liquid sloshing about in them. Drift tossed two in his mouth, crunching down harm and shivering at the taste.

Rodimus was sitting with them, the sounds of Swerve’s loud all around them. He flickered his optics like a blink, focusing them, and then spoke, “Hey, Drift.”

“Mm?”, murmured Drift with a mouthful of sweets, one finial cocked up.

“You’ve ditched the fangcaps, the clawcovers, and the vocmod. Could I ask, uh, why?”

Drift nodded, raising a finger to let himself chew before he swallowed what was probably an outrageous amount of candy, “Course you can, Roddy. ‘S long as you’re prepared for the answer.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s not nice at all.”

“Try me.”

“Capping my fangs, covering my claws, those all came later, when I was made an Autobot under the Reintegration Act thing; stupid idea by the way.”, said Drift loudly, just to make sure Magnus could hear.

Heavy footsteps sounded, and Magnus’s rumbling voice was heard, “The Reintegration Act was not a ‘stupid idea’ TIC Drift. It was a necessary extending of resources and assistance to those who needed it, in order to bring them back into the fold.”

“Cool, so uh, where was all this help when I was starving in a gutter again?”, asked Drift flatly, “Don’t worry, I’ll wait.”

Magnus paused, coughing softly, “I… Uhm, well….”

“I’m WAITING.”

Perceptor looked anywhere but Drift’s deadpan expression as Ratchet snickered. Rodimus was simply shocked that Respectful and Polite Drift was talking so flatly to Magnus.

“Erm.”

“How about this, I’ll keep talking and you can think on it Ultra Magnus.”, was the answer.

Drift resituated himself in his seat, turning back to his original group. Perceptor quietly offered a seat to Ultra Magnus, who accepted.

“Now, back to what I was saying. The Knights were firm believers in not forgetting your past. My voice, my dentae, my claws they were all parts of that- and no, I don’t mean the Cons.”

“You mean Dead End.”

“Mhm. All my life I’ve been doing one thing. Survive. It was survival that drove me to the Cons. And it was the Cons who taught me a new way to survive.”

“Battle?”

“Nah, I learned that the old fashioned way; the streets. The Cons, specifically Megatron, taught me how to manipulate. Once again the claws and fangs and voice came into play. I could sound scary, look scary, and BE scary. Intimidation is a useful thing.”

Rodimus nodded, “Alright, but, you’ve downsized your frame, had the covers, and used the vocmod. Why?”

“Because that’s what I was told I had to do to survive as an Autobot.”, said Drift simply, “With the Autobots, intimidation only works on paper, or in courtrooms. That’s just the Primus-forged truth. In easier terms? Autobots couldn’t be scary if they tried.”

“Idunno Drift, Mags is pretty scary.”

“Magnus also has exposed joint components my claws could slice through.”

Magnus and Rodimus jerked back.

Drift shrugged, “It’s survival. I do what I have to so I can wake up tomorrow. It’s hard-wired into me at this point. It’s not like I had much help or anything.”

Magnus glared.

“Stare at me all you want, Magnus, the fact of the matter is I had no choice and you know it as well as I do. Not saying what I did after was right, it wasn’t. I’ve done terrible things, I came to terms with that a long time ago. What I am saying is I’m not going to hide anymore and pretend the Autobots saved me. Because they didn’t.”

Drift inspected his claws a moment before taking another candy and popping into his mouth. Crunch.

“What I AM saying is that I am not going to be ashamed of physical parts of me. I shouldn’t have to change every last thing about me JUST to get a degree of decency tossed my way. Yes, I was at one point Deadlock. Yes, I was at one point a Decepticon with some really nasty hobbies. But I have always been Drift. And I am Drift NOW. And being Drift is perfectly good enough, regardless of what anyone else has to say.”

“Then how do we know we have your loyalty?”, asked Magnus with a haughty note in his voice.

“Because none of you are dead.”, said a low rumble behind the Enforcer. They all turned to see Megatron standing easily with a grin on his face, “And what more loyalty could you ask of someone who’s had to kill for a meal?”

“Exactly.”, said Drift before turning to face Rodimus, “So to answer your question Rodimus, I’ve ditched all the coverups because I’m Drift; and what Drift means is I’m an Autobot with fangs, and claws.. And if I was really wanted here; if I was really welcome? Those traits wouldn’t matter, because it’s still me.”

Rodimus sat quietly, taking it all in. Perceptor felt his spark throb in pride and glanced at Ratchet, who merely smiled.

Rodimus nodded, “I can be cool with that. Sides; you’re modded voice sounded like some kind of like… Idunno, princess-type?”

“It did NOT!”

Ratchet guffawed while Megatron hid his ever widening grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molds are for jellos and cakes, my friends; not people.


	18. Schemes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If we shadows have offended,   
> Think but this, and all is mended…” - Puck || A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Drift snapped out of his daydream when Magnus thudded a heavy hand on the desk.

The enforcer sighed, fighting the urge to chuckle at the TIC’s behavior, before he spoke, “Drift, perhaps it would be best if you took a short break, hm? You have the focus of Rodimus after pulling a week of all nighters- off with you.”

“But I-”

“No buts. Go on, clear your processor and then try again.”

The enforcer watched as Drift got to his pedes with a sigh, trudging out the door- before Magnus put a servo to his comms.

_::Magnus to Perceptor.::  
_

_::Yessir.::  
_

_::I have reports you’ve gone over your alotted shift-times without an appropriate break.::  
_

_::…O-oh, it seems I have. Oops.::  
_

_::No worries, Perceptor; I just cannot have you overworked and stressed in the event we need your other sets of skills. You have an hour.::  
_

_::Understood, sir.::_

Magnus returned to his seat, humming a love song from older days, and quite pleased with himself. 

The pair of mechs had been dancing around each other for weeks now, since Drift’s return and their little chat. It had been all quiet words and forlorn sighs and offhand doodles in the margins of reports-

Magnus, stern as he was, couldn’t bring himself to be upset with them. Rodimus chose that moment to barge in and slam his hands on Magnus’s desk, sending datapads every which way.

“MAGS VERY IMPORTANT NERD UPDATES HERE.”

“Oh?”

“Drift is totally trying to lowkey wander to Percy’s lab, I deadaft caught him.”

“And?”

“So I comm’d Percy and told him he needed to take a break before you griped his audial off.”

“Bit late, that.”

Rodimus stared in shock, “You already…”

“I was also the one to dismiss Drift from his duties for the moment. He’s already ahead anyway, its honestly just busywork.”

“Oh, sweet so-”

“No, you can’t skip. Unless its and emergency.”

“So if Drift comms me freaking out about having a date with Percy…?”

“…Just this once, I will consider that an emergency.”


	19. Deep Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Cause all I need  
> Is the love you breathe

Drift tapped the lock code into the keypad by the lab door, smiling when it opened.

“Percy?”

“Over here!”

Drift strolled in, carrying two cubes carefully in one hand as he called out, “Got something for ya; no one saw you top off this morning so-”

A crash and clatter, the sound of Brainstorm yelping.

Drift perched on the lab counter, watching in amusement as Brainstorm darted by, followed by Perceptor wielding a wrench and some choice swearwords. He couldn’t help snickering as the pair chased back and forth for a few moments before Brainstorm raised his hands in surrender and slunk back into the depths of the lab; but not before a parting dig at the pair-

“Behave, younglings! And if you make a mistake don’t name them after me!”

“Don’t make me SHOOT YOU Brainstorm!”

Perceptor sighed, trudging over to where Drift perched before dropping into his chair with a huff.

“Shouldn’t you be on break or something? Its 1300.”

“I got distracted; you know how I can be, Drift.”

“Okay, you nerd.”, snickered Drift, nudging a cube closer to Perceptor, “Here.”

“Bless you.”

“Saint Drift of the Forgetful Scientists.”

“I wouldn’t say saint, now.”

Drift pouted at that, and Perceptor chuckled as he sipped. They sat in comfortable quiet, Perceptor humming between each sip he took and Drift suddenly remarkably interested in his own servos.

Perceptor jumped when Drft cleared his throat. The scientist looked to the swordsmech, tilting his helm as his optic scope whirred softly.

“Hey, Percy?”

“Yes Drift?”

“Any plans for after your shift?”

“Not really, no. Aside from perhaps reading until I fall asleep- why?”

“I was, y’know, just… wondering… If maybe you’d like to join me for a drink or two? After your shift, of course, y’know…”

Perceptor was quiet, and Drift nervously looked up at the sniper, finials lowered and nervous.

“Of course I would.”, said Perceptor, his voice gentle and calm and…. happy. He sounded happy.

Drift perked up immediately, finial’s almost knife sharp in how high they stood and his faceplates lit up with his smile. He slid off the counter, pedes clacking softly on the floor as he did so.

“Then it’s a date!”, he said, before freeing again, “I-I mean, if, y’know it’s okay for me to call it that but if you aren’t comfy calling ti that I could just, like-”

As he stammered through his excitement, Perceptor finished the cube in his hand, and set it upon the counter before he stood. And as Drift tripped over his words, the scientist leaned to kiss Drift’s cheek, a hand against the smooth white chestplate.

“It’s a date.”, he murmured by Drift’s audial, pulling back, “I’ll see you then, hm?”

“Damn right.”, said Drift, his voice suddenly airy and his optics wide and almost too blue.


	20. Stardust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Want you to know, what you mean to me-  
> What will it take; take you to see?

Drift lived up to his name as he left the lab, seeming to float down the halls back to the main office and nearly walking facefirst into the door.

At the last minute, he remembered to punch in the code and it hissed open to show Rodimus pacing the floor and Magnus humming where he sat. Drift stumbled in, door closing behind him, and made it safely to his desk where his knees buckled and he dropped into his chair with a whoosh of an exvent.

“Uh, dude?”, said Rodimus cautiously.

“Mmm?”

“Driiiiift, Lost Light to Drift, do you read me, hello?”

“Ground Control to Major Drift, are you there?”, chimed Magnus worriedly.

“I’m here, yeah, ‘m good. Yup.”, mumbled Drift, leaning back and grinning in his lopsided way, “I’m fan _TASTIC_ actually.”

“Oh? Gimme the deets, bro.”, said Rodimus, leaning on Drift’s desk on his elbows with a Chesire smile, “C’mon, spill it.”

“I uh. I have a date.”

“Uh _huuuuuuuuh._..”

Magnus leaned forward a centimeter.

“With uh… Percy. After his shift.”

Rodimus slapped both hands on the desk and crowed happily, “FINALLY SWEET PRIMUS!”

“Wh-WHAT DO YOU MEAN FINALLY, RODDY.”

“Dude. DUDE. YOU HAVE BEEN _MOONING_ OVER HIM SINCE YOU TWO AGREED TO ‘GET USED TO EACH OTHER’ AGAIN, OKAY.”, said Rodimus, “IT HAS BEEN _TORTURE,_ OKAY, _**T O R T U R E**_ WATCHING YOU _SIGH WISTFULLY_ AND DOODLE HIS NAME ON THE _DESK._ ”

“I DO _NOT.”_

Rodimus deadpanned immediately, pointing at the surface they were discussing. Sure enough, in several smeared places, “Percy” was sketched out in Drift’s sloped and sharp writing.

“So C’MON what’s the _DEETS_ whatcha gonna _DO_ my mech?!”, said Rodimus, leaning almost too close, “C’mon, drinks and a movie, sweep him off his pedes under the stars, seduce him and get frisky in all the Fun Places- **TELL ME.** ”

“I-I… Primus I don’t… know…”

“We gotta plan this man, we gotta get this down pat- I got some ideas, I mean you could just-”

Drift put a servo over Rodimus’s lipplates.

“No. No, I’ll figure something out.”

The beep of incoming comms, and Drift sighed; taking back his servo and tapping at his comms to answer.

_::TIC Drift, what’s the situation?::  
_

_::Yooooo It’s Bstorms! So I hear you gotta date with Cold, Calm, and Creepy! You got any specific plans, because I got some ideas if you’re stumped-::_

_::Brainstorm, you’re a good mech, and I appreciate the advice you gave me before, but that’s a big hell to the no on this one.::_

He closed his comms and looked at Magnus, who was about to speak.

“Before you even say a word, the answer is no, Magnus. I don’t need your advice either.”

Another comm beep.

“Are you **kidding** me?!”, growled the TIC as he once again tapped his comms.

_::WHAT.::_

_::Relax Drift, I’m not messaging you about your love life.::_

_::How can I help you, old mech.::_

_::It’s Megatron, you snarky youngling; and I was hoping you could remind Rodimus that hiding in an office with you and Magnus won’t save him from his command center duties. He’s up for the security shift tonight.::_

_::Can do, you old glitch. I’ll be, uh, unavailable toni-::  
_

_::Yes, yes, I already know. I’m praying for Perceptor’s legs to still function, don’t worry.::_

_::HEY, WOW, RUDE.::_

The commlink closed down, and Drift stood up.

“Magnus, I’ve decided I don’t need anymore putter work for the day so I’m just gonna head on out. I have planning to do.”

“Off you go, Drift.”, said Magnus in amusement, “And be gentle with him- or at least GAG the mouthy mech, the last thing we need to hear is-”

“MAGNUS, PLEASE.”, said Drift, feeling his faceplates heat.

Drift hustled out, exventing as his face burned in embarassment with Magnus’s chuckling following him out.

He wandered the halls, gnawing on the tip of his thumb and frantically watching plans rise and fall in his processor before-THUD. And suddenly he was on his back, blinking up at flourescent lights.

Ratchet leaned over him, unimpressed.

“Kid, you okay?”

“Oh, I’m great, I’m fine Ratch. Just, y’know, _burning slowly to death on a pyre of suffering I built all on my own._ ”

Ratchet reached down, hauling him up by the edges of his chestplate and setting him back on his pedes, “What’s wrong now? I figured you’d be over the moon since you and Perce patched things up.”

“Well, haha, funny you should mention-”

“Am I gonna have to crack your helm.”

“No! No, its… well… I uh.. I asked Percy on a uhm…. date.”

“…”

“Unfortunately I didn’t think I’d _actually get to the part where Percy said yes_ so now I’m, well-”

“Runnin’ in proverbial circle trying to figure out a way to impress ‘im, right?”

“Well when you put it **that** way it sounds superficial.”

Ratchet snorted, “Drift, c’mon, you know Perce. He’s a quiet spark.”

“I know, it’s just…”

“Would he have said yes if he wasn’t already impressed?”

“..Uhm.”

“Drift, y’don’t need to sit here and think of a way to hit him like a supernova. Just put a little stardust in his optics; that’ll be plenty.”

“Are you sure?”

“Before, when you were with Percy… did he want big numbers and song and dance?”

“Nah, Percy isn’t much one for that. He doesn’t mind concerts every so often, but he’s kind of a homebody. It’s really cute sometimes, he’ll just curl up on his berth or the couch and bury himself in a datapad and he’ll mutter and gasp and- oh.”

“I think you got it.”

“Heh, yeah. You got the best ideas, old medic.”

“I know.” 

Drift stood a little straighter, finials perked and optics bright, “I think I know what to do now; or at least I got an idea.”

“Good mech. Now off with you- Perceptor’s shift ends in half an hour. Don’t you dare be late, kid.”

“Well DUH.”

Ratchet watched the speedster tear off down the hall, living up to his namesake as he turned corners. The medic shook his helm, laughing to himself as he continued on his way.


	21. Millenium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ve loved you for a thousand years-  
> And I’ll love you for a thousand more.

Perceptor sighed in relief as he locked the lab door, finally. He turned, beginning his walk down the hall and pondering his evening’s plans.

A date. He had a date. With Drift of all mechs.

Drift, who left twice… Drift, who apologized with limp finials and that soft molasses-smooth tone remembered from days long gone. Drift, who came home, who missed HIM out of all the faces he saw day-to-day.

Drift, the wanderer who didn’t want to wander, anymore.

Perceptor was lost in thought, not noticing when footsteps joined his until he heard a soft, “Hey Percy.”

He looked up, and Drift smiled at him, crooked and offbeat. Patched in a dozen places and polished regardless.

“Hello, Drift.”

They approached Swerve’s, and Perceptor braced himself for the wall of sound-

“Hey Percy, before we head in.”, began the swordsmech, “Remember those old sci-fi flick we’d watch on the Trion? Late at night, laughing at the special effects and the acting that was half the time ridiculous.”

“Ah yes; and the old serials with magic science and ‘aliens’, right?”, chuckled Perceptor. Fond memories, they were, held dear to a dusty spark after all this time, “I do remember.”

He didn’t notice as they breezed into the bar, didn’t notice the faces that turned to watch them as they took their seats at one of the booths along the wall.

He didn’t notice the rolling wave of surprise when he laughed, as he and Drift talked. He didn’t notice the grin aimed at them both when their drinks arrived, didn’t question how anyone knew what he would have wanted-

He knew that Drift had memorized what he liked eons ago; he knew he had done the same for the swordsmech.

“And-pfffffft!- Perce, d-d’you remember when Blurr, damn fool he is, remember when he just CAREENED into your quarters like he owned the place and SCREAMED like a newbuild?”

“Oh Primus, was that when we had the double holoscreen?!”

“YEAH! He took one look at that suited disaster called an alien and burnt rubber on the way out, hollering the whole way!”

Perceptor nodded, laughing helplessly and wiping beaded coolant from his optic, “Springer had a bloody FIT he did, goin’ off about quiet hours and mechs trying to SLEEP.”

“Like that old tin can slept, we all KNOW what he was up to.”

“Or up INto, more like.”

“THERE IT IS!”

Perceptor cackled, high and reedy and once upon a time? Embarrassing. 

But not with Drift, never with him. For every reedy cackle, there was a tank-deep bellow of laughter fro the mech facedown on the table.

They were a mismatched pair. In pitch, in tone, in standing-

But they fit together so perfectly.

“Pffftsnrk. Hoo. Any-heheh- Anyway, Percy-”

“Hm?”

“Let’s ditch this joint and marathon aforementioned cheesy movies; whaddya say? It’s been a long day, long month, long millenium. Let’s get a little relaxation in.”

Perceptor blinked, looking at Drift. The honest blue optics, that… that half cocked grin; one fang glinting. An old tomcat and houseborn purebred.

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a while.”, said Perceptor, his smile hitting a thousand watts.

Drift rose from the booth first, waiting for Perceptor to follow. They walked side by side, suddenly shy; suddenly they were younger, suddenly they were softer at the edges-

Perceptor moved his hand, hooking his smallest servo with Drift’s. A touch a thousand years in the making it felt. His optic scope beeped, registering the heat from his blush.

Drift looked at him, faceplates warm as his hand moved to fully catch Perceptor’s; to slot their servos perfectly together like they had belonged there all this time. All this time they spent ducking and dodging; all this time they spent yearning and wishing…

They walked down blurred hallways, hands tight together. Shoulders brushing, EM fields leaking and swirling and blending together like creme and coffee; like honey and tea until the edges faded away. Their hands unclasped for arms to curl around each others frames, to hold each other close as they fell into step.

Drift nuzzled against Perceptor as he typed in the code for his habsuite; they gravitated apart to collect the necessities-

The stash of sweets and snacks Perceptor kept well hidden. Blankets folded up on the top shelf of the closet. The heavy pillows from the berth. They moved the table, Drift snickering and tossing one of the sidecushions from the couch at Perceptor and watching it land on his helmcrest.

“Really?”

“Hey, you caught it, so…”

Perceptor rolled his optic as they tugged out the two main seat cushions, flipping them and propping them against the couch frame. Like a pair of Academy cadets, they spread blankets and pillows in a haphazard nest. Perceptor used a spare scalpel from the desk to slice the seals on a box of the candies he and Drift had always liked sharing in these moments.

Swerve’s was thudding its walls and mechs were cheering on reckless drinkers; but in their distant corner, there was no sound but the hum of the holoscreen powering on, the clicks and clacks of a room reorganized into an oasis for two quiet souls.

And soon, they were curled together, laughing as the Hero fought the Villian with exceedingly terrible combat skills and even worse puns.

Perceptor flicked a candy into the air with his thumb, tilting his helm back to catch it in his mouth only for Drift to nudge it aside and steal the glory.

Perceptor rolled his optic, mock pouting, “You’d steal the fuel right from my lips, how could you?”

Drift swallowed, and grinned, “Don’t worry, I can share.”

Drift shifted himself so he could press his lipplates to Perceptor’s. The scientist froze, then his optic dimmed, shuttered- He melted into the contact, feeling Drift’s calloused servos cup his cheek.

Perceptor covered Drift’s hand with his own as the kiss deepened, as his arm went around Drift’s waist and they pressed closer, ever closer. As Drift moved from kissing Perceptor senseless to nip at neck cables to make the scientist gasp into the dim suite.

Nips turned to nuzzles, the embrace never faded. They curled together, movie forgotten and kisses lazy and candy-sweet. Perceptor pulled Drift’s hand to his lipplates, kissing the palm before returning to match Drift’s quiet gaze.

The sniper revelled in the gentle touches from the swordsmech’s servos, returning the soft affection tenfold. Drift moved to straddle Perceptor’s waist as their lips met in the soft sound of tender kisses and whispered love; of quiet harmony like the hum of sparks aligned.

“Percy..”, murmured Drift.

“I forgave you the moment the shuttle left.”, replied the scientist as their forehelms rested against each other now, “I forgave you the moment you jumped ship. All that… its the past. We have another chance; we have a chance.”

“I want to take that chance.”

“I’ve wanted it for as long as I can remember.”, chuckled Perceptor, arms wrapping around Drift’s waist as the swordsmech settled over a heavy frame.

“Drift?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Drift’s claws clicked gently as he gripped Perceptor’s chestplate’s edge.

“I’ve loved you longer than I think I’ve known the word’s meaning, Percy.”

The holoscreen flickered as the movie autorestarted; the soft glow from it reflecting gently ff the pair of lovers tangled together on old blankets and soft pillows.

Click.

It idled, and shut down with a low whine; stars winked through the window, like they had so many night before-

But this time, they smiled down on a pair of sparks once again reunited, and never destined to ever part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!!  
> This is bexacaust here to say thank you! I hope you enjoyed reading Transgressions, and all of the suffering and sweetness I tried to pack into it! This is the last plot-necessary chapter, but have no fear; the M rating is for the epilogue-  
> After all this emotion, a little Sin is in order, what do you think?  
> But anyway, in all seriousness, thank you for sticking with Transgressions this long, from writer to reader: Thank You!


	22. The End

Hello everyone! This is it, the end of Transgressions.

 

In the previous chapter I pondered adding a little friskiness here- but in the end, I decided against it. After the ride the story was, I figured ending on a nice cuddly note would be best.

This chapter is here to thank all of YOU. My readers, my commenters, the leavers of kudos and the tumblr rebloggers. You helped make this fanfiction possible just as much as I did- sticking by it even when I left it alone for quite some time. So this is for you.

 

Special Thanks to:

Vienn_Peridot and Kuukeli- two of my serial commenters and rebloggers who helped me keep the fire.

Guttermech.tumblr.com - one of the cheerleaders for the days when I couldn't bear to put fingers to keys and an idea bounceboard buddy.

And to both my partners, for dealing with my 2 a.m. screaming when I couldn't figure how to make a scene work.

And of course, to every person who left a comment, dropped a kudos/like, or reblogged each little piece as I released it in my piecemeal way!

 

Here's to twenty-two chapters, and hopefully many more fics! I'll see you all in the next AU, so stay tuned!

 

Much love:

Bexacaust


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